


The Road Trip AU No-One Asked Me To Write (a working title)

by zeebrown



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Geraskier, M/M, Modern AU, geralt the bartender, i am terrible with tags okay, jaskier the musician, slow burn i guess, there is like no aspect of canon in this fyi, they share one brain cell and damn it they left it in the car with their bag for life, yknow because mixing potions mixing drinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 107,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24063520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeebrown/pseuds/zeebrown
Summary: Jaskier finally comes home from his tour only to find that there is a dashing new bartender at his local and sees no other option than to break through the man's standoffish nature and invite himself along on his plans. You know how strangers are.The classic tale of a meddling musician befriending a brooding bartender.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 199
Kudos: 201





	1. Have you left yet? -Y

**Author's Note:**

> First off: hello, I have not written anything in years.  
> Secondly: I know how much that shows.
> 
> This basically started off with me wanting to make a writing prompt but I could not make it short enough so I just kept going?
> 
> I can only apologise.
> 
> Enjoy? Hopefully???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let me come with you on your road trip.”
> 
> “Why the hell would I ever let-“
> 
> “I’ll pay for petrol.”
> 
> Fuck it.

After five years of actually taking his art seriously, Jaskier had made quite the name for himself. At least that is what he liked to tell people. He had travelled the UK for the better part of the last year performing his latest covers-with-a-twist album at pubs and small clubs, each with varying success. That night was his final stop of the tour, finishing in the town where he lived and if anything, despite how much he adored performing, he was a little relieved. It had been a long year and it was good to be home. Even if the crowd did not seem to want to welcome him back with open arms.

Jaskier sung the last note of the final song and received a smattering of applause which he could not help but pout at. “Alright, alright- no need for the sympathy. I’ll let you get back to your drinking in peace. Just don’t expect me to sign any copies so you can flog them on eBay!”

A coaster, thankfully made of thin cardboard, was thrown from one of the nearby tables and hit Jaskier on the cheek. He spluttered, swatting it away from his face and caught it awkwardly. “Hey!” He pointed an accusatory finger towards the thrower, “Not unless it comes with a free drink!” The table ignored him and went back to their conversation.

Leaving his guitar safely on the stage, Jaskier hopped down the little step and headed towards the bar to return the coaster. He had been fiddling about with it between his fingers when his eyes landed on a solitary aproned figure. Strange. Jaskier had frequented his local for years and had not once laid eyes on this man. He would certainly remember a brooding look like that. One that could turn every drink sour with a glance. Must be a new hire since he left for his tour. It would only be polite to welcome the man in to town. Definitely had everything to do with hospitality and not the fact that the stranger was the dictionary’s definition of ‘ruggedly handsome’.

In an attempt to look casual, Jaskier threw the coaster up in the air as he approached, but promptly fumbled as he tried to catch it, smacking it midair so that it hit the man’s delightfully toned chest. Just bounced right off. _Nice_ , he thought.

“Working hard or hardly working?” he asked, trying to break the ice that may have been chipped by a coaster, but the cold look he received told him he might be dealing with a hunk of iceberg.

“ _So_ -“ He drew out the word as he took a step closer towards the bar as if nothing had happened and placed his hands on the surface the man was currently wiping down. “Which of my sensational songs was your favourite? Wait no, let me guess, let me guess- judging from this whole… thing,” he gestured to all of the man before him with a wave of his hand, “It was the sad one, wasn’t it?”

It had been a long day for Geralt. What should have been just over a two hour journey turned out to be just over five damn hours and it pissed it down with rain the whole time. He could have stopped somewhere on the motorway but he refused to pay their extortionate prices. So he had pulled off and followed numerous country lanes until he came across this town and immediately parked up in front of the first pub he saw. Just an hour, tops, so that he could get something decent to eat before he looked for somewhere to stay. An hour his arse. While he was sitting at the bar waiting for his drink, the landlady apologised as her phone began to ring and she excused herself. Turned out one of her employees was calling in sick, leaving her to juggle serving multiple customers and babysit the untrained new hire who was now staring at her in wide-eyed panic. Geralt being Geralt had sighed and offered his services as a trained bartender. Many pubs were laid out the same anyway, so he could slip right in to the role. And so began his afternoon of pouring pints, mixing drinks and brewing coffee.

And now he was being accosted by a coaster. His eyes flicked from the place it landed on the floor and back up to the expectant man.

Geralt had been on a break out the back when the man had arrived to play his set and he was able to mostly ignore the music while he worked, only glancing up at a few particularly intrusive high notes. The musician was clearly in to his work, and ergo, his own voice. Geralt would learn how true that statement would become in time.

“Hard to decide-“ Geralt began and Jaskier’s face lit up, “When I did not listen to any of them,” and immediately fell.

“Charming,” he scoffed, but his persistent smile returned, “Don’t worry, you’ll find them in your subconscious later. They’re awfully catchy, you know. You’ll be singing them for weeks.” Geralt hoped not. “So when did you get hired, stranger?”

“I did not.”

“Huh. So you’re telling me you just strolled on in here and got behind the bar and started pulling pints for the hell of it?”

“Yes.” And what of it.

Jaskier narrowed his eyes slightly, but did not let up his smile at all, trying to suss the other out. “I’ve never seen you in here before. You’re not from around here, are you? I’d remember a chiselled face like that.” He tilted his own head a fraction, inviting the other to open up.

“No.” Invitation rejected.

Relentless, Jaskier persisted. “You have such _wonderful_ customer service skills, I can see why Margaret hired you-“

“Was not hired.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

Geralt stared at him for a few moments before tossing his cloth in to the sink. “Free accommodation.” It was true; in lieu of payment the landlady had offered him a bed for a night in one of the flats next-door that she was waiting to find a tenant for.

“So you’re travelling?” There were obviously other reasons as to why Geralt may have accepted free accommodation, but it just so happened that Jaskier was a very good guesser.

Geralt ignored the assumption but when the musician showed no intent in leaving him alone any time soon, he looked away from him to the banner by the stage. Reading it, he quirked an eyebrow. “What sort of a name is ‘Dandelion’?”

“Oh lords,” Jaskier breathed and attempted to grab a beer from the tray of the passing landlady, earning a swat to his hand. He beamed at her. Sometimes it worked. Apparently not tonight. “When I first started doing music I created this album, that honestly, has some pretty decent covers on it. You should buy a copy. My only mistake was the cover art,” he placed a hand on his chest to gesture to himself, “I, of course, was the art, but I was posing in a field with an awful lot of dandelions and kicking one rather than blowing it. This seemed to resonate with some of my early fans and they decided that is what they would call me. I was trying to look ‘edgy’.”

“If by edgy you mean like a prick,” Geralt murmured and turned to serve a customer that had just walked up and heard that.

“You’re so delightful,” Jaskier put his elbows back on the bar and placed his chin in his hands, “I bet you’re running from a flock of people who just adore you.” He waited for the other to retaliate after he had finished the order and took payment, but was met by a seemingly more predictable silence. So he filled it. “My real name, thank you for asking, is Jaskier. You probably heard all of my fans screaming it earlier.” They had not. “And pray, might I ask, what is yours?”

“I did not ask.”

“Maybe not, but I have.”

“Geralt,” came the gruff one word answer eventually. No need for the theatrics, and that, added to his now crossed arms, might clear him off sooner. He hoped.

“Well, Geralt- see? That was not so hard! Lovely name that. And equally lovely to meet you. Welcome to town. I would very much like for you to buy me a pint, please.”

Geralt waited with still crossed arms for Jaskier to elaborate his drink choice, but it never came. He should give the man a pint of tap water or milk just to spite him and get him to leave. Instead, he settled for the most expensive thing the pub had on tap. He typed the choice in to the till and slid over the card reader before pulling the pint. He certainly was not buying it.

Jaskier took one look at the card reader and immediately fished out some change from his back pocket and slammed it on the counter before it could fall out of his hand. Geralt, distracted by this, nearly let the glass overflow. Who the fuck pays by cash anymore? He gave Jaskier a look that expressed that exact sentiment as he cleared the screen and reentered the details. As the drawer popped open, he swiped the coins in to his hand and counted them up quickly. A single penny over.

“Your change,” he said, locking eyes with the man and put the coin back on the bar.

“Keep it. You’ve earned it,” Jaskier’s smile turned to a smirk as he pushed the coin back towards him.

Geralt’s eyes rolled to the ceiling as he put the penny in to the tip jar and grabbed the pint to hand it over to Jaskier. Hopefully now the man had got what he wanted he would sod off and

_Oh no. Do not sit down. Do not sit down. Please do not sit down. Do not_

Jaskier accepted the glass from Geralt as if it was an invitation to sit. And sit down he did. Or at least, he tried to. He had lifted a leg up on the bar stool, shifted his weight, and promptly slid off, his elbow hitting the bar and some of his drink sloshing out of the glass.

“So Geralt, what does a dark and broody soul like yourself do for a living?” he sat down successfully this time, not acknowledging the first attempt as if it never happened. “Are you a model? You could be a model you know. You have such…” his gaze wandered for a moment, “Kind eyes.”

Geralt stared at him, deadpan. Was he serious? Did he not _literally_ just pour him a pint? “Bartender.”

“Oh, you _are_ a bartender…” he watched as Geralt cleared up the mess that he had shown no intention of clearing up himself even though he had been the one to make it, “Well, personally I think you are wasted in this profession- Hah! Wasted! Get it?” he barked, “Though I suppose your looks could probably bring in a few extra customers here and there. Get drawn in by the face and stay for the enlightening conversations…”

Another deadpan stare.

“I am a full time musician for hire, if you could not tell-“

“Did not cross my mind.”

“Wedding venues, mostly. Why get a DJ when you can have just a J. A Jaskier. Me…” he took a gulp of his drink, readying himself. “I teach, too. Guitar and piano so far. The other instruments do not exactly have much of a demand at the moment. Uncultured youths. You should take my card,” he pulled a business card out of his back pocket, another couple of pennies falling out with it and bouncing to the floor. He would leave them there for someone else to pick up. Bring them luck. Jaskier did not need luck; he had his copious amount of charm. Charm which led him to snap the card between his middle and index finger in what was supposed to be a smooth move but inadvertently led to him flicking the card at Geralt’s chest.

“What is it with you and throwing things at me?” A coaster, himself and now a business card.

“Firstly, I did not _throw_ the coaster at you, I _accidentally_ hit it towards you,” he corrected matter of factly, “Secondly, you know you could try catching them.”

“Throw me something worth catching and I will.”

There was a beat of silence before Jaskier’s grin grew wider than the Cheshire Cat’s. “Flirt.”

“If that is your idea of flirting-“

“Darling, you’ll know when I’m flirting with you,” came a promise.

“Why? Because I’ll laugh?”

Jaskier was delighted by this and slapped his thigh. “So he does have a sense of humour! I was beginning to lose hope!”

“And I’m beginning to lose hope that you will ever leave our poor customers alone,” the two of them turned their attention to Margaret, the landlady, who placed a tray of empty glasses and bottles on the bar. Geralt immediately started to pick out the bottles to throw them away, but she placed a hand on his arm. “Geralt, sweetheart, it’s okay. My wife’s going to get here in a moment and she can take over from you. You’ve been most helpful, dear, I honestly can’t thank you enough. Here,” she handed him a key, “Thirteen A. You can pop it back in the letterbox whenever you want to leave.”

Geralt nodded a quiet thanks.

“Be careful with this one,” she ruffled Jaskier’s hair and he beamed up at her like a kid that had just been praised, “He grows on ya until you can’t shake him off. Believe me, I’ve been trying for years!”

“Like a tumour,” Geralt mused.

Jaskier’s eyes and mouth went wide with horror and eventually tried to stutter out, “I am- I am not a bloody _tumour_!”

Margaret chuckled and patted Geralt’s arm. “Oh I have no worries for you, pet. Help yourself to a drink before you leave; on the house.”

“Does that extend to me too now that I am wounded? I need something to sterilise it!” Jaskier called out to her as she walked away, her response being to show him a specific finger held high in the air. He turned back to Geralt who was currently undoing his apron. “I feel like there should be a certain type of music playing for this,” he waggled his brows.

Geralt merely gave him a look as he folded the material and placed it under the counter. He grabbed a beer from the fridge behind him, taking Margaret up on the offer of a free drink and wrote it off on the till. Not anything too expensive, but decent enough for it to be drinkable.

“Now that you’re off work-“

“No.”

“Oh come on, you can hardly have a drink on your own! You’ll look like a right loner.”

“I am okay with that.”

“You might be, but I am not. What sort of welcoming party would I be if I allowed you to drink alone? Come on,” he hopped off of the stool and grabbed his pint, “I might even buy you a drink if you’re lucky.”

Geralt popped the cap off of his bottle and took a swig as he threw the top away. Lords help him.

They went through several beers, various shots- some more to Geralt’s harder tastes but also some fruity bullshit Jaskier had ordered, and then back to beer. The conversations varied in topic but remained fairly one sided as expected though Jaskier managed to coax out a few more non-monosyllabic sentences from Geralt.

The elder man sat back in his seat and observed the man before him. Tousled chestnut hair, obnoxiously bright floral shirt, laughter lines from apparently living a life of perpetual positivity and a stupid leather cuff on his wrist. Geralt was not one for keeping up with fashion trends, but even he knew those went out of style a fair while ago.

“Getting an eye full, are we?” Upon noticing the other studying him, Jaskier unashamedly sat back himself, allowing Geralt to take in a better view of the ghastly shirt, and arched a brow as he took a sip of his latest drink.

With a huff, Geralt swirled the amber liquid in it’s bottle. There were significantly fewer people left in the pub. It was later than he thought, though he would not mention it lest it be met with a ’ _Time flies when you’re having fun_!’

“I need to get going. I’ve got a ferry to catch in the morning.”

Jaskier’s eyes immediately went wide with curiosity, leaning forward again to rest his arms on the table. “Oh? Tell me more. Where are you going? Wait no! Let me guess…” Geralt made no attempt to answer the original question, so he began to guess. “Edinburgh… no. Bristol? There’s plenty of bars in Bristol. Nope. Cornwall? Nice little quiet getaway there? No? London then?”

Geralt took a swig of his beer.

“London it is! Why are you taking the ferry? Why not just fly there?”

“I like driving.”

“Nothing beats a good old fashioned road trip, eh? Why London?”

“I’m meeting a friend of mine. An agent.” Why he had been so loose lipped with that he did not know and silently cursed himself, taking another mouthful to shut himself up.

Jaskier’s eyes lit up and Geralt could practically hear the cogs in the man’s brain whirring a mile a minute. He did not like this look. Did not trust it. Not that he trusted this man as far as he could throw him anyway.

“Geralt my dear, _dear_ chum-”

“Not your chum.”

“Dear, dear friend?“

“Not your friend.”

“Esteemed acquaintance…” he waited for a complaint, but Geralt allowed him to continue. “My esteemed acquaintance, I have a proposition for you,” he placed his fingertips together and pointed them towards the man.

“Not interested.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to suggest!”

“Don’t need to know. All I need to know is that I’m not interested.”

Jaskier frowned at him, watching as he drank from his bottle and decided to continue with his idea anyway.

“Let me come with you on your road trip.”

Geralt nearly choked on his beer but composed himself as Jaskier’s lips twitched in to a smirk.

“You could be a murderer for all I know.”

“Geralt. Poppet,” Geralt frowned at the pet name, but Jaskier chose to ignore it, “Look at you. You have nothing to worry about. What with those…” he waved his hand, “Everything.” Not that he was one to undersell anything, he took care of himself, but in comparison the man was a brick shit house Jaskier was a twig that Geralt could snap just with a hug. Huge arms. Huge everything. Jaskier had been staring.

“What sound logic,” Geralt scoffed breaking Jaskier out of his trance soon enough for him to nod in agreement. “Why do you even want to go?”

Purely selfish reasons. “It’ll be an adventure!” Geralt did not bite. “With a possible pot of gold at the end of it if I just so happen to get scouted by your friend.” There it was.

“Why the hell would I ever let-“

“I’ll pay for petrol.”

Fuck it. He downed his drink. Blame it on the alcohol.

“Ferry is at eleven. I’m leaving here at eight. If you’re not ready, I’m going without you.”

Jaskier slammed his hands down on the table, his glass jumping off of it’s coaster briefly, “You are not going to regret this, my friend.”

“I already am,” he rose from the table, taking the empty bottles with him but stopping himself for a moment to add, “And I’m not your friend.”

“Mhmm… so you usually let strangers tag along on your holidays do you?” he stood up to join the man back at the bar.

Geralt glared at him and tidied away the glassware before Margaret came along to shoo him away.

“That’s what I thought,” Jaskier called out after him as he watched Geralt go out in to the back to collect his bag. While the man was out of sight, he went to pick up his guitar from the stage and hoisted it on to his shoulder and waited patiently back at the bar until Geralt returned, following along behind him like a loyal dog when he left the pub.

Thankfully the flats where literally right next door so Geralt did not have to search very far to find the building. He did not think he had the patience for that after the day he had had.

“You did not have to walk me here, I’m perfectly capable.”

“Mhmm, I know,” Jaskier hummed but still did not leave, instead following man in to the building. Geralt frowned when he heard the footsteps behind him.

“You’re not coming in to the flat,” he wanted to make that very clear.

“Get over yourself, Geralt, I am not that easy. You would have to buy me dinner first,” he could not help himself and winked, producing a key from his pocket and dangling it in front of him. “I live in thirteen B.”

Of course he did, Geralt thought to himself as he rolled his eyes and let himself in to 13A, just grateful that to have a roof over his head for the night.

“Well, goodnight, Geralt! Again, pleasure to meet you. Sleep well. You’ll need all the rest you can get, ready for-“

Geralt’s door slammed shut in his face.

Jaskier grinned.


	2. Ignoring me? Cute, Geralt. -Y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can put your shit on the backseat, there’s no room in the boot.”
> 
> “Why? You got a body in there?”
> 
> "Why? Would that be a deal breaker?”

Jaskier had set three separate alarms. All of which he snoozed. One at 6AM, one at 7AM and one at 7.50AM. It was not that he was particularly lazy or anything, he had just fallen asleep a lot, lot later than he had intended to. Three in the morning to be exact.

After he had let himself in to his flat, he had put his guitar down on the sofa and went to pour himself a glass of water. Dehydration would play havoc on anyone’s throat and he had to protect his moneymaker. As he leant back against the kitchen counter he let his mind fully mull over what had just happened.

Jaskier did not like the feeling of staying in one place for too long, sitting idle. Sure, it gave him time to work on his music, but he always had an itch to get out there and travel. That was why he had organised the tour and though it was not the worldwide phenomenon that he dreamed of, it more than helped to satisfy more than one of his urges. Now, no sooner than he had returned home seeking the comfort of a familiar bed, he was going to be out the door again on a new adventure. And he was bloody thrilled about it. Sure, anyone else would tell him he was mad for voluntarily putting himself in close quarters with a man that could potentially murder him with a glare alone but Jaskier’s need for an exciting life more than outweighed any self preservation. Plus he had a feeling that fun just seemed to follow Geralt wherever he went. Could be good for his songwriting. Of course, it did not hurt that he was horrifically handsome too. You could write a song about those fiery eyes alone, even if the majority of the looks the man had thrown Jaskier’s way were distrustful.

The head of Jaskier’s guitar peaked over the top of the sofa and the first few notes of a song began to dance around his mind. The pull of composing something new dragged him over to the sofa and there he sat until nearly three in the morning, scrawling down scraps of lyrics that came to him as he plucked away at the strings. The process of writing new songs was addicting and he would never fail to lose track of time. The only thing that stopped him this time was the burning sensation in his eyes; a mixture of dryness and tiredness catching up on him. He placed his guitar in it’s case with the utmost care, almost as if he was tucking it in to bed for the night, before tucking himself in to bed, suddenly painfully aware that he only had three hours to go before his first alarm sounded.

When his first alarm went off at six he put it on snooze so that he could get an extra ten minutes of sleep. He thought it was a smart idea, really, setting early alarms and snoozing them so that he could ease himself awake gradually. After ten minutes passed it went off again and he lay in his bed with eyes near enough glued shut, checking through the notifications on his phone. That lasted all of ten minutes before he fell asleep again, phone still in hand.

When the alarm set for 7am sounded, Jaskier accidentally threw the phone across the room as he jolted awake. He did not hear it break in to pieces and in fact, it successfully turned the alarm off so he let his eyes close once more.

At ten minutes past seven he had no other choice than to drag himself from the comfort of his bed, duvet still wrapped warmly around him, to pick up his phone that was screaming an obnoxious generic alarm tone at him. He swore audibly when he took note of the time and threw the duvet off letting it land in a messy heap on the bed, and shivered, suddenly exposed to the cold air of the room. Less than an hour. He had less than an hour to get ready.

First port of call was to make himself some coffee. Even if he was running late, he still had to have coffee. It was more like medication at this point. As the kettle boiled he portioned out a generous helping of instant coffee and sugar and again, swore out loud when he realised there was not going to be any milk in the fridge. He should have stopped at the shops on his way home or asked Margaret if he could nick some from the pub but he would have known the answer to that. Black coffee it was. He brought the mug in to his bedroom and left it on his bedside table to cool while he had a shower.

This was another reason why Jaskier liked to set early alarms; so he could take long showers. Who could blame him? The acoustics in bathrooms were second to none (he had even recorded a few of his earlier songs while sitting in the bath), so he would sing through a good few songs as he washed. A solid fifteen minutes later and his shower concert was brought to a close as the fire alarm outside of the bathroom door started to bleat and oh lords was it too early in the morning for a noise like that. He clambered out of the shower, a mess of limbs and skidded on the bathmat as he reached for a toothbrush to jab at the alarm. He caught the button on the second jump and allowed himself to relax in the silence that followed for a brief moment. Nope. No time for that. Seeing as his toothbrush was already in his hand, his next step for the morning was to brush his teeth. Out of habit, he stared at his reflection as he brushed and watched the droplets of water fall from the ends of his hair and slide down his face and body. It was only when he walked back in to his bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist that he realised he had made a mistake. Coffee was never a good idea with a minty fresh mouth. Nevertheless, caffeine was important so Jaskier downed half of a mug in one go, his features contorting with a noise of disgust. But coffee was coffee.

Next came the tricky part. Jaskier usually decided on his clothes the night before he had to wear them, otherwise he could spend a solid quarter of an hour vacillating between all of his options. He had a lot of options. But he also did not have fifteen minutes to spare. He threw open his considerably sized wardrobe to take it all in. Having been gone for a nearly year there was a small gap on the rail where he had taken a bunch of outfits with him on the tour, so it was good to finally lay eyes on the rest of his clothes once more, greeting them like old friends.

The droplets from his hair served as a cold reminder of the seconds gradually passing and helped to speed up his decision making because nobody needed to see Jaskier’s natural hair; he had to hurry up and get it dried. He took two fistfuls of clothes hangers from his wardrobe and piled them on top of his bed, reaching in blindly to pick his shirt for the day. Which turned out to be a striped one he had quite forgotten that he owned, so it was a nice surprise. Judging by the fact that his room was cold, he deemed that he might need an extra layer, so he tugged on a high neck white t-shirt to wear underneath the striped number, both of which he tucked in to some dark jeans, making sure to roll the hems of course. There could be six inches of snow on the ground and Jaskier would still roll his jeans.

Now satisfied with his outfit, he sat down on the edge of his bed and began to dry his hair with a hairdryer that was plugged in nearby so that he could see his reflection in the wardrobe’s mirror making it easier to style. Jaskier was not one for putting product in his hair bar some decent shampoo and conditioner (none of that shudder inducing two in one nightmare concoction) and some heat defence spray, but apart from that, the secret to his perfect locks was just in the styling. He had learnt to perfect it years ago after growing tired of his unruly natural mop. Nobody that was currently in his life had ever seen Jaskier’s natural hair and he intended to keep it that way.

Fifteen minutes left and Jaskier realised he should probably start packing. The rucksack he had taken with him on tour was still on the floor in the corner of his bedroom so he picked it up, undid the top, turned it upside down and shook out all of the contents. It was a good thing there was nothing breakable in it. Or so he thought. There was a loud clattering, breaking noise, but that was a problem for future, post-road trip Jaskier. He picked out his wash bag from the haphazard pile, the rest of it mainly dirty clothes and a few odd trinkets he had picked up on his travels. Though he had obviously bought more toiletries to replace those that had run out while he was away, he still restocked the bag with items from the bathroom. Including swapping his toothbrush for his makeshift fire alarm disarmer. The final alarm started to ring at ten to eight and Jaskier darted back in to the room to turn it off, quite fed up now with the amount of alarms he had set.

He downed the last of his coffee to give him the final kick that he needed to fold all of the clothes that he wanted to bring with him. A seemingly random selection of some of the items he had piled on to his bed, though he matched each piece in his mind with another so that he would have a few killer outfits for several different scenarios. Who knew what he would get up to; Jaskier liked to be prepared. Saying that, he neglected to pack a proper coat for the trip, instead opting for a light jacket that he knew would pair well with the majority of the outfits he had already chosen.

By the time he finished packing, his bag was full to the brim. If he had forgotten anything that he needed, he would just have to find somewhere to buy it. It was not as if they were travelling to the middle of nowhere. He put his bag down next to his guitar on the sofa and tidied up some of the papers on the coffee table, filing some back in to his notebook to then slide it in to the guitar case. At any given time Jaskier had to have something on his person to write down any lyrics or melodies that came to mind. Inspiration was known to strike at the most random of moments.

The last thing that Jaskier did before leaving the flat was to wash up his coffee cup, leaving it on the draining board as another item for future Jaskier to deal with.

There. Everything done. He was ready.

If anything, he was quite proud of himself for getting ready in just fifty minutes; it had to be a record for him. He carefully carried his bag and guitar out of the flat, making a last minute grab for his sunglasses, and made sure to lock the door behind him. It was not like he had much for thieves to steal anyway, but he would still rather come home to an intruder-free flat.

While he stood there in the hallway waiting for his new travel companion, the thought occurred to him that it probably would have been a good idea to exchange phone numbers. Then he could have told Geralt that he was ready and waiting outside his door. And then came the intrusive thought that _oh shit_ , maybe Geralt had already left without him. Surely not? He could not hear any noise coming from Geralt’s temporary flat but Jaskier was sure that it could not be much later than the time he had warned him to be ready by. He was about to check his phone when avery deep yawn overpowered him.

No matter what time Geralt fell asleep, be it at a sensible time or after a late shift, he always woke up at six in the morning. Even when he was a child he woke up at the same time. He just had a very good body clock. Today was no different.

He spent the first five minutes of the morning checking through his notifications, giving quick replies to emails and texts, no longer than how he would respond if he were talking to them in person. He did not have the greatest messaging etiquette.

The next part of his daily routine was a thirty minute workout, only some light exercises to warm up his body ready for the day. It was especially important to him at the moment seeing as he would be spending the majority of his days sitting down driving. It also gave him time to think through the fucking ridiculous scenario he had agreed to yesterday.

Why had he agreed to bring a complete stranger along on his trip? One that grated so terribly on his nerves too. It was not as if he even needed the money for petrol. Still, he had agreed to it, so he could not exactly go back on his word now that he had raised the man’s hopes up. Inadvertently anyway. Jaskier was the one who had planted the idea of being scouted in his own head, not Geralt. All he could do was keep his fingers crossed that the man had come to his senses and decided that being stuck in a car with a stranger was not the safest idea in the world. Or he was too hungover to wake up in time. Geralt had warned him of the deadline, so it would be his own fault if he were to miss it.

A new text message snapped him out of his thoughts so he reached up to check it, tapping out a quick reply. He thanked whatever higher power might be out there that he had not given his number to Jaskier. As he reached up to put his phone back on the bedside table, he caught the distinct scent of sweat radiating from himself, making his nose scrunch. Time for a shower.

It was quick, barely over five minutes, but enough to wash away the smell and any alcohol that had been spilt on him yesterday with whatever body wash the previous tenant had left behind. He quickly ran some shampoo through his hair too, seeing as he had forgotten to yesterday morning. Hoping that Margaret would not mind, Geralt patted himself dry with a towel from the bathroom shelf, making sure to leave it neatly folded over the rim of the bath when he was finished. Seeing as he did not have company, not that he ever really did, Geralt walked out of the bathroom naked and pulled out the first t-shirt that was at the top of his bag. They were all fairly similar anyway. Dark and the tightness suggesting that he should probably invest in new ones. He tugged the shirt on last, pulling it over wet hair that left dark, damp patches on the material. His clothes from yesterday were shoved in to another pocket of the bag to keep them separate and he pulled out his toothbrush to go and brush his teeth.

By the time he sat down on the sofa, his bag on the floor next to him, it was scarcely even seven. He could have just left then and there. He was ready, he could leave. Jaskier did not have any of his details, he knew nothing about him, Geralt was not exactly planning on visiting this town ever again and it was an hour before they were supposed to meet, so Geralt could just go.

He sat on the sofa for an hour flicking through his phone.

About a minute to eight, he deemed it a suitable enough time to leave, so he grabbed his bag and took the key from the table where he had left it the night before. Greeted, as he opened the door, by a mid-yawn Jaskier waiting about a metre away. Wearing sunglasses.

“Not usually up this early?” in lieu of a normal morning greeting.

“Something like that,” Jaskier rubbed at the back of his neck as if he had not jumped in surprise when Geralt had finally opened the door. Not that he was overly relieved to see him or anything. Not at all. “Ah, shit!” he jumped again as his alarm went off in his pocket right on time. “Right on time,” he grinned at the man before him, eager for their adventure to begin, Geralt clearly less so as without further comment he had already begun to walk down the hall. Jaskier stood firmly on his spot, tapping his foot in wait. “Are you forgetting something?”

Geralt turned, not even noticing that Jaskier had not been following along behind him. He frowned, looking him up and down and crossed his arms to stand his own ground. “I’m not carrying your bags for you.”

“The key,” Jaskier reminded him after placing a hand on his chest in mock hurt at the very idea that that is what he had been waiting for. Again, he was not that lazy.

There was no actual thank you when Geralt walked back to the door to post the key through the letterbox, but he did grunt, as if that would be enough. Of course it would not be.

“Thank you for reminding me, Jaskier, that was very helpful, Jaskier. You’re already proving your worth, Jaskier.”

“I would have posted it to her,” Geralt rolled his eyes and was already on his way out of the building while Jaskier sung his own praises.

“Well then I’ve just saved you postage. You can thank me now or later,” he offered as he darted through the door that Geralt neglected to hold open for him.

The chill in the air was even more evident now that they were outside and Jaskier was beginning to second guess his choice in outerwear. Though he suspected that if he asked Geralt if he could run back in to grab a coat that the man would take that as his opportunity to leave without him. He rubbed at his arms to warm himself up.

“So which one of these slick rides is yours?” At this point, Jaskier was beginning to suspect a motorcycle with a sidecar and he definitely was not prepared for that.

“The Roach.”

Well shit. That sounded like a motorcycle.

“The…” Jaskier looked between all of the cars in the carpark, thankful for when Geralt started to lead the way towards whatever the hell a ‘Roach’ was. “I’ve never seen a… Roach before.” As if he was familiar with most cars. Red ones. White ones. Blue ones. Blue ones were best. This one was dark brown, the darkest car in the carpark which should have been obvious.

“Not surprised. They don’t make them over here,” Geralt pressed a button on his keys and the car burst to life, the lights giving a quick flash and doors clicking as they unlocked. “You can put your shit on the backseat, there’s no room in the boot.” Before Jaskier even had a chance to, Geralt was putting his own bag in the back of the car.

“Why? You got a body in there?” Jaskier chuckled but he did as he was told, placing his bags with a lot more care than Geralt had shown. Precious cargo and that.

“Why?” Geralt looked over from the other side of the car, expression deadly serious, “Would that be a deal breaker?” In other words, _please let that be a deal breaker_.

“Pshh, please,” Jaskier waved the comment off and opened the door to the passenger side of the car without being offered, “My fingerprints are on your car now. You can’t get rid of me that easily, bud.”

“Not your bud,” Geralt muttered as he got in to the car. He frowned once he sat down and looked in the rearview mirror to see the neck of Jaskier’s guitar case obscuring his view out of the back window. A sharp turn should rectify that.

“This is a beaut of a car,” Jaskier ran his fingers over the closed glove box, feeling the vibrations of the engine as Geralt turned the key in the ignition. Even if Jaskier knew bugger all about cars, he could appreciate that this was one of the nicer ones. It was clearly Geralt’s pride and joy, kept in pristine condition.

“Mm, she is,” he hummed, pulling out of the carpark and officially starting their journey.

“Oh she’s a she, is she?” Geralt did not seem like the type of person to assign pronouns to an inanimate object and yet there was Jaskier about to ask him, “Does she have a name?”

“Roach.”

“How imaginative,” he scoffed. “I had a dog growing up called Dog,” he waited for a laugh that did not come. “Is Roach the only woman in your life?” he asked, casual as ever, checking his fingers just to add another layer of casual.

“We are not doing this,” Geralt gestured between the both of them with his hand, “I don’t need to know about your life and I’m not telling you about my life. I’m taking you to London and then we’re parting ways.”

“Never to be seen again,” he nodded as if in agreement before actually registering what it was Geralt had just suggested. “Hang on. You’re taking me to London…”

“I thought you grasped that last night. Are you that hungover?”

“I’m not hungover. You’re taking me to London and then we’re parting ways.”

“What part of that could you not possibly understand.”

“The part where you’re not taking me back with you.”

Geralt was silent for a few moments and Jaskier shuffled in his seat to show that he was getting comfortable while waiting for an answer that he was determined to get. “You passed through my home town so why are you not passing back through it to go home?”

More silence. Jaskier began to tap his fingers on the door in wait.

“I have stuff to do.”

“How very vague.”

“I’m not going back home right away.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Christ you don’t give up, do you?” Jaskier shook his head in response. “It’s none of your business. You can get out of the car right now if you’re going to carry on like this,” he threatened as he pulled to a stop at some traffic lights and stared him down.

In, again, an attempt to be smooth, Jaskier locked eyes with him and his hand fumbled in search of the locking button on the door. Eventually there was a clicking sound. Success. “I meant it. You’re not getting rid of me.”

Geralt shook his head and turned back to look at the lights, pulling away as they changed to green. “You are sounding more and more like a murderer.”

“Says the man with a body in his boot.”

Surprising himself, Geralt exhaled though his nose which could have been mistaken for a laugh, making Jaskier smile to himself triumphantly.

They drove in silence for a while; blissful for Geralt and utter hell for Jaskier, but he kept the quiet. To distract himself from his constant need for chatter, he observed how Geralt looked as he concentrated on the road. Most of the stoic vibe that radiated from him was lost and replaced by quite a calming atmosphere. He could now see why the man had chose to drive rather than take a plane. He looked so relaxed…

It was quite an achievement to have an attractive profile, or so Jaskier thought. He prided himself on his own, but Geralt’s was something else. Like a Greek marble statue. Equally pale spare the scruff peppering the man’s carved jaw. A scar splitting his left eyebrow. How did he get it? There must be an interesting story behind it, surely. He wanted to ask if the hair colour was a choice or if it was natural. No. He could not see the man voluntarily dying his hair a premature grey. Or voluntarily dying his hair any colour for that matter. The length on the other hand. That was definitely a choice. Styled only by way of pulling back the top layer in to a small ponytail. He wondered if when the other did not tie it back, did it get in the way? Was that the reasoning behind the style? Or did Geralt know that it suited him? That it helped to highlight his cheekbones?

Preparing to move lanes, Geralt glanced to his left to look in the passenger side mirror. Only, he found himself double taking the look. Jaskier was not wearing the stupid leather cuff today, but with the man resting his elbow on the door of the car, Geralt got a very clear view of what the cuff had been hiding.

“Is that a dandelion?” his nose scrunched as he said the word.

“Hmm?” Clearly he had been lost in his own thoughts as Jaskier had to shake his head to clear them, before he even registered that he had been asked a question. He mimicked Geralt’s frown before looking to see what had puzzled him, eyes going wide. “Oh for fuck sake.” He slapped his forearm down on the edge of the door to conceal his not so secret secret. “Knew I’d bloody leave something behind. It’s always the way isn’t it? You think you’re ready and you leave the house all prepared and chuffed with yourself- I could be ready hours before I have to leave for somewhere and you know what? I still always forget to bring at least one thing that I need. At least this time it was not my underwear,” he waggled his eyebrows.

Geralt was having none of this distraction, but still kept his eyes on the road. “Are you that full of yourself that you got a tattoo of a dandelion?”

A defeated sigh. “Short answer yes-“

“You can keep it at the short-“

“Long answer also yes. I sort of had the idea when I sold my first album to someone who was not a member of my family or a friend or family friend but I thought ‘No, don’t do it, you can’t even get a blood test without vomiting’ but then I did a gig and it was kinda like… my first proper successful one and the audience started chanting the name and _christ_ the rush of it!” he grinned briefly at the memory before it was replaced with a grimace. “I immediately got pissed up with a bunch of people who had been in the audience including this girl who took me to this sketchy tattoo parlour that was still open that late at night- it should have been a sign really… Did not throw up though,” he shot a finger gun at Geralt.

“Congratulations.”

“It was, however, my first ever tattoo and it did get very, _very_ infected. That was more vomit worthy than actually getting it done. Took far too long to heal after that. Hence why it looks so shitty now and hence why I usually cover it up with something.”

“Like a dumb leather cuff.”

“Like a dumb leather cuff- hey!” He scowled in protest but it soon disappeared. “Have you got any tattoos? You strike me as a tattoo sort of guy. Skulls and fire and tigers and pin-up girls- I bet you have have one of those hearts with a banner over it that says ‘mum’, don’t you?”

“No,” as blunt as ever.

“Oh, I get it,” he narrowed his eyes, “You’re one of these people that judge when others get tattoos, right?” Because Jaskier clearly decided that was the takeaway from that very clear answer. He did a few more of his shirt buttons up.

Geralt just rolled his eyes and took no notice of him. Not much change there. But then he went to change gear and both men’s eyes went wide as Geralt missed the gear stick entirely and in fact grabbed Jaskier’s thigh. He immediately retracted his hand and placed it back firmly on the steering wheel.

“I did no-“

“Geralt, please, I told you I am not that easy. Fancy coming on to me in a car of all places,” he teased, trying to make light of what Geralt was deeming a very awkward situation.

“Like hell did I mean to do that. I was going for the-“

“Stick?” he teased again and followed it up with a laugh, “It’s fine, Geralt. I know. I used to do it accidentally to my driving instructor all the time. Did it to one of the invigilators for my test too. That was awful. Pretty sure he failed me just for that.”

“Can you get through any situation without trying to flirt your way through it?” Geralt snapped unnecessarily.

“Contrary to your apparent belief, Geralt, I do not flirt with every breathing being.”

Again, silence.

“Well fine. If you’re going to make things awkward, I’m going to put the radio on. It’s exhausting carrying conversations.”

Geralt held back a ‘ _shut up then’_ and instead simply stated “Radio doesn’t work.”

There were a few moments of quiet before you could practically hear the lightbulb spark on above Jaskier’s head. “Well you know what that means…” he beamed.

“Don’t you dare.”

But Jaskier had already undone his seatbelt and was twisting round in his seat.

“Put your fucking seatbelt back on,” Geralt tried to keep an eye on the road as he grabbed blindly at Jaskier to drag him back, noticing police on the road up ahead, but the man was determined, already kneeling on his seat and reaching over the back of it to take his guitar out of the case, “I am not paying a fine because you’re being a dick.”

“Speaking of- that’s not my leg, Geralt- hey!” Jaskier had been mid wave to the passing police when Geralt hit Jaskier’s hip in response. In return, Jaskier hit Geralt’s shoulder with the bottom of his guitar as he passed it over the seat. Geralt shot him an annoyed glare as if he had not deserved it.

Jaskier sat back down properly and buckled his seatbelt with a smug smile. “Any requests?”

“Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know less about cars than jaskier and knew from the start that I wanted to create a new car model called a 'roach' which I envision to be a sort of cross between a station wagon and pickup truck don't ask why however i was curious and googled 'roach car' so please do yourself a favour and do the same and imagine geralt standing next to it like 'this is my pride and joy'  
> in my mind geralt's more of a motorcycle kinda guy but then we wouldn't get any fun road trip interactions and ya gal's a sucker for dialogue  
> also yes i have set my fire alarm off by having a shower and yes i have accidentally grabbed my driving instructors thigh rather than the gearstick and it's a burden i still carry with me til this day sorry jo  
> lord knows how i busted out this chapter so quick oh wait i know i completely neglected all of my other writing responsibilities oops  
> the other chapters will n o t be out this quickly just as a warning
> 
> (also i spent a while procrasting and made a pinterest board for this fic because that's what writers do, right? but it has spoilers so here have jaskier's shirt for this chapter: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/843721311429785840/?nic_v1=1aJhg9oM4a2RQPmO0lcfXnfPqmfma4GbcPaUBLH3LrykFrUNrWI925oCPJG97k9W%2Fu and from the first chapter: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/AdDPqDVGik9XKtwjZiPGbqlDCYYcMfvReVLdmR2IJgORwN4z19h_MlI/?nic_v1=1asb0jyyTuqAy%2BpB8Ioe4eElgSDISEIxo%2FcBA71%2FB62bor7qNvWQvIKb75DMPMKSY3)
> 
> Thanks for reading


	3. Delay? -Y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That was the first compliment you have ever given to me.”  
> “Do not take it to heart.”  
> “I shall think of it every night before I sleep for a month and not a day less.”

_I’ll actually leave earlier than I need to so that I am definitely not late for the ferry._

_I’ll tell him that I need to leave earlier than I need to to make sure I do not leave late._

_I do not need to use my phone for directions, I have driven there enough times to know the way by now and if not there will be signs up I can follow._

_We’ll make the 11 o’clock ferry._

_We’re not going to make the 11 o’clock ferry._

_Fuck._

They did not make the 11 o’clock ferry.

If Geralt had not been stubborn and had used his phone to check the map before they left, he would have seen the traffic delays in advance. And if anything, he should have predicted it if yesterday’s journey had been anything to go by.

By the time they arrived at the harbour they were an hour late. Their ferry had long since gone and Geralt had rolled down the window to enquire when the next one was going to be leaving. Luck not faring well that morning, it was cancelled and now the two of them had found respite in a coffee shop not too far from the harbour.

A stupid hipster looking place with hundreds of things on the menu, plants hanging from the ceiling and walls covered in books. Not to mention a bunch of pretentious looking twenty-somethings tapping away on their laptops busy writing their next best seller or big picture. Jaskier was enamoured of course and insisted they passed the time with a drink. Geralt had only agreed on the idea that Jaskier would be the one to buy their drinks, but conveniently the other had not heard that part of the deal, already darting in to the building and to inhale the rich scent.

“Iced latte for Jaskier.”

There was no real need for the barista to actually announce it. Jaskier had been standing there, arms leant on the surface of the waiting station, wooden stirrer between his teeth to draw attention to his mouth, chatting away with her as she prepared his drink for him. All giggles and smiles. She slid the plastic cup over to him along with a little something extra to which Jaskier winked in thanks. Another giggle and she had to move on to the next customer with the promise that Jaskier would text her fuelling the rest of her day.

The smug smile on Jaskier’s face was quickly replaced by a frown as he looked around the fairly packed cafe in search of Geralt. If he had been paying attention to the man who had already got his coffee and sat down before him, he would have found him a lot sooner, sitting as dark and brooding as ever in the far corner. His smugness returned as he sauntered over to the table the other had procured.

“What was that about not flirting with every breathing being?” Geralt had looked up from his phone when he heard Jaskier approach, having chosen to ignore the others courting ritual when he received his own coffee, thankfully from a different barista. He put his phone in the pocket of his jacket which he had draped over the back of his chair.

Choosing to ignore the jab, Jaskier took instead to shaking the cup from side to side in his hand, the liquid contained in it sloshing about. “I appreciate the finer things in life, Geralt, and if those finer things wish to give me their phone number, who am I to say no?” He displayed the cup proudly before taking a seat opposite Geralt. It was decorated with the woman’s number, the name ‘Alexis’ and a little crudely drawn heart.

Jaskier sunk down further in to the fabric of the chair than he had anticipated and had to quickly shuffle to readjust himself. It was comfy, but he felt short. Geralt must have deliberately chosen the wooden chair for himself. There was a joke about the hard and soft aspects of their personalities in there somewhere. “And she gave me a free cake pop,” he beamed, proud of himself as he took out his phone to type in the number that was written on the cup. Her name was now ‘Alexis Cakepop’. She joined ‘Alexis Library’ and ‘Alex is _very_ gay’. He made a mental note to text her when they returned to Roach. Cannot be too eager and message her right away; he had an effective system. ‘Alex is _very_ gay’ also probably deserved another text. He had been sweet.

Geralt watched the other type and you would be mistaken if you thought you saw a hint of a smile quirk the corners of his mouth. “The most childish of cakes.”

“Jealous arse,” poking out his tongue did not help the childish factor, but nonetheless he did. He shifted his hips to pocket his phone before picking up the cake. “Never quite know how to go about eating them though…” he licked the treat on a stick and just so happened to catch Geralt’s eye while doing so. Not on purpose at all.

“Don’t be crude,” Geralt warned, and yet, did not look away, “You don’t want to give…” he turned the cup and quickly read the name again, “Alexis the wrong impression, do you?”

Jaskier frowned, locking eyes with him and put the whole thing in his mouth to spite him. “Mmm, delicious,” narrowing his eyes some more as his words were mangled by a mouth full of cake.

“Never neglect the balls.” Geralt immediately regretted thinking it, let alone saying it out loud as he now had a projectile of crumbs and spraying at him from across the table. “Attractive,” he scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

Jaskier blinked, taking a moment to chew and swallow his way through the considerable mouthful and to deal with the fact that Geralt had a sense of humour. “My dear fellow, that was the first compliment you have ever given to me.” He placed a hand above his heart and fluttered his eyelashes to show how flattered he was.

“Do not take it to heart.”

“I shall think of it every night before I sleep for a month and not a day less.”

Geralt did not doubt that in the slightest.

Jaskier let his attention wander to the wall of books next to them, his arm outstretched so that his fingers could trace along the spines. “It’s quite effective, this,” referring to what he thought was a wall covered floor to ceiling in book spines to give the effect of some old-timey library. That was until his thumb caught the top of one of the books and it shifted in place. His eyes went wide with delight. “They’re real!”

“Calm down, Pinocchio, why the hell did you think they weren’t?”

The man shrugged, eyes now following his fingers as he searched through the titles above his head. “I don’t know… seems like an awful lot of books to buy just to use as decoration. They’re so tightly packed I don’t think they even want you to get them out to read them.” Though he was damn well going to try.

“That’s hipsters for you.”

“Look! There’s one here on music theory! I bet I know everything that’s in here. Oh, fun idea: you can test me on it.”

Geralt felt on edge as he watched Jaskier manhandle the books. And rightfully so. As the man tugged on the spine of the one he wanted to take out, another two above it wriggled with the tension.

“Hey, it’s two to a-“ Geralt’s words were as useless as Jaskier was stubborn. Jaskier had successfully managed to pull out the music theory book from the wall, but he had also succeeded in loosening the two books above it. Quick as a flash, Geralt shot up to brace an arm above the man’s head, managing to catch one of the books while the other hit his arm before falling to the floor beside them with a loud thump.

Jaskier looked between the gap in the wall above his head, the book on the floor and then to Geralt still standing over him. “That could have knocked me out cold… my hero. My knight in shining…” he looked Geralt up and down trying to think of a relevant comparison “Casual wear?” he beamed up at him only for Geralt to mutter something under his breath and sit back down in his seat, but not before he placed the book he saved Jaskier from in front of the other. The destructive bastard could be the one to clean up the mess he had made.

“Ooh, a book on wildflower identification and pressing! Good find!” Jaskier immediately abandoned his plans for the book on music and began to flick through the illustrations of flowers until he found what he had been looking for. “Aha!” he exclaimed and turned the book around, pushing it towards Geralt so that he could see, “Look, it’s me!” He pointed to the drawing of a dandelion that had been printed on the page.

“Funny, doesn’t look like an annoying, clumsy dick to me.” The blow was softened with a smirk.

“I can go off of people, you know,” Jaskier frowned for only a moment as he knew Geralt was just teasing and pulled the book back towards himself. “Here, prat, this one might be more suited to your tastes,” he leant over his chair to pick up the book from the floor, quickly checking the title before handing it over to Geralt. “Something to do with wolves. That manly enough for you?”

Geralt took the book out of curiosity and not to humour Jaskier. He turned it over to study the cover before thumbing though the pages. There was something oddly familiar about it. He frowned as something caught his eye between the pages and he tried to flick back to find what it was. A drawing. _Huh_ , he thought, _so that’s where they got it from_.

He was brought back in to the room as Jaskier walked by his chair and Geralt snapped the book shut as if he did not want Jaskier to see inside. Thankfully the man did not notice for he was far to invested in what was on the table next to them. Could he not sit still for five minutes?

“If you’re about to steal somebody’s left overs…” Geralt warned, but he did not bother to look over, too preoccupied with grabbing his phone from his jacket to quickly snap a picture of the front cover of the book so that he could send it in a text.

12:42:23 [Image Attached] Look familiar? -G

“Who’re you texting?” Jaskier asked in a sing-song voice as he returned to his seat, pretending to try and catch a glimpse of the screen.

Geralt immediately placed the phone on the table, screen down and chose to ignore Jaskier’s question. “What were you doing?”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to answer a question with a question?” though he was not really that fussed as he still answered Geralt without further prompt, “There was a newspaper on the table. I wanted to snag the puzzle page before someone else took it. They didn’t even touch it! What a waste. It’s what you buy papers for.”

Jaskier adored a good crossword. He could leave the sudoku. The man had much more of gift with words than numbers. Not that he was bad with numbers really, they just did not interest him as much. How could numbers compare to the beauty that words could create. Though that may just have been the romantic in him talking.

He frowned, patting himself down. Bugger. “Don’t suppose you have a pen on you, do you?” The look they both exchanged said that was a stupid question. With a sigh he folded up the page and slipped it in to his pocket. “Left mine in the car. Suppose it gives me something to do later. Gives you a break from my singing too, eh? Though I shall test you to see if you know any of the answers. It’s always good to keep your brain active…”

Jaskier rambled on but Geralt was not listening, for his phone had vibrated alerting him of a reply.

He unlocked his phone with one hand and picked up his coffee with another, smiling slightly as he read the message.

12:44:37 Okay, fine, you caught me. I didn’t draw it. -L

Jackier decided not to pry, though he did wonder what could possibly have made him smile like that. A message from a partner perhaps? No, he would have told Jaskier to cut it out a lot sooner if that were the case. Unless Geralt just secretly enjoyed the attention more than he was letting on. Jaskier would have to find a way to bring it up in conversation again to get an actual answer this time.

He watched the steam rise from Geralt’s coffee and flick at the air in wisps as he brought the cup to his lips. If the man wore glasses they would have fogged up. Jaskier scrunched his nose in distaste as if he could feel the burn of the liquid in his own mouth. “You have what my grandmother would call asbestos mouth,” he mused.

“It’s better than having a loud mouth.” A droplet of coffee rolled down the side of the cup as he placed it on to his serviette to avoid marking the table. Years of bartending hammering in a distinct dislike of sticky surfaces. It was a good job he was not a primary school teacher.

“I have a very talented mouth, thank you.” Of course, he had not meant it in that way, but he let the happy accident hang in the air between them for a few moments before thankfully Geralt scoffed and shook his head. “I don’t know how you can drink it that hot. It was practically still boiling. How does it not hurt? Does it not scald off your taste buds?”

“Coffee was created to be drunk hot,” he informed him while he put his phone back in to his jacket pocket.

There was a loud rattle of ice as Jaskier shook his cup for effect. “Well then call me a rule breaker,” he took a long drag of his coffee through the straw and flicked down his sunglasses to cover his eyes.

“You’re an idiot.”

Jaskier lifted his glasses to reveal a glare with no real heat behind it. “At least I am an idiot with taste,” he pushed his glasses back on top of his head and drank some more, letting out a satisfied ‘ _Ah_!’ and then sneered at the darkness in Geralt’s cup. “Did you even put any sugar in it?”

“Doesn’t need it.”

“I beg to differ,” he stuck out his tongue in disgust, taking a quick sip of his own drink as if he could taste the bitterness of Geralt’s. “You should really branch out your order. Let me order your drink the next time we stop for coffee. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. I have a gift for guessing people’s tastes…”

“Do you indeed?” Geralt found himself learning forward a little more, his eyes challenging.

“Indeed. I. Do.” Jaskier followed suit, eyes much the same. Heart involuntarily quickening.

A beat of silence.

A dropped teaspoon on another table.

Geralt straightened himself up. “I bet you are the kind of person that puts sugar in to their hot chocolates.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Again, copying Geralt’s movement as if nothing had happened.

“Not those who care about cavities and diabetes.”

“Darling, I think you forget I look like this,” he flashed a thousand watt smile and for a moment, Geralt could swear the lights in the room dimmed. “And my heart is fighting fit with bountiful amounts of love to give.”

“It’s not just about the-“ _no_ , he thought, stopping himself, _there is no point explaining_. He drunk another mouthful of coffee to drown out the thoughts of sweetness.

Jaskier, clearly believing he had won this little battle, smiled in to his sip before looking between the straw and Geralt. “I think you should try it.”

Geralt’s features scrunched in to a frown as he said a resolute, “No.”

“Go on.” He held the iced coffee out to Geralt.

“No.”

“You’ll like it.” He leaned over the table to bring it a little closer.

“No.”

“Try it.” The straw was an inch away from Geralt’s mouth.

“Jaskier.” His voice was level, calm, but his eyes flickered with annoyance. “If you don’t get that out of my face-“

“Why? Worried a straw will make it look like you’re sucking-“

Geralt batted the cup away with the back of his hand and Jaskier scrambled to save it. None of the coffee escaped.

“You’re lucky the lid didn’t come off!”

“I’ll buy a lottery ticket.”

“You’re no fun,” Jaskier pouted. He sat back down in his seat and checked to make sure the lid was on properly. Heaven forbid it fell off later and he got coffee over his clothes. Truly an end of the world scenario.

“I hope you don’t treat your dates like that,” Geralt huffed, “Just shoving-“

“Don’t joke about consent.”

Geralt blinked after the man snapped at him. Jaskier and hostility. He did not know the man was capable of such a thing. He recognised the look of hurt on his face before Jaskier turned his face away.

Jaskier sat quietly, stewing in his mood. The only noise he made was the sound of his leg bouncing up and down and catching the table, trying to burn off the excess energy he had from not talking. He had diverted his gaze after scolding Geralt, staring instead at a framed poster on the far wall just to fixate on something, anything other than the sickening feeling in his stomach. Geralt was right. Jaskier was a downright stickler for consent, always had been. Always the first to make sure his partners were fully comfortable with any given situation because he had been one of the unlucky ones to find himself in the exact sort of shitty situation he would never subject anyone to. It stirred up memories that Jaskier had tried hard to repress and yet there he was, sounding exactly like that man had all those years ago. Sure, the scenario was not exactly the same but nevertheless, he was repulsed by himself.

The silence was more deafening than any of the rambles Geralt had been subjected to in the last twenty-four hours. What worried him more was that Alexis walked right through Jaskier’s line of sight and he did not move an inch, not even acknowledging she was there. Much to her disappointment. For someone who loved silence, Geralt did not love this.

He reached over and grabbed Jaskier’s drink to take a sip.

“Christ, how do you drink that?” Geralt’s face contorted at the sweetness of the drink which he quickly put back down on the table and pushed back over to Jaskier. What was even worse was that if you overlooked what was probably the five teaspoons of sugar in it, the taste of vanilla and… was it hazelnut? Whatever the flavours were, they were quite nice. Though he would never admit to that out loud.

Jaskier, who had flinched and turned round when Geralt reached towards him, directed a small smile down at the table that Geralt would pretend he did not see and that it did not bring a feeling of relief. “Rule breaker,” Jaskier shrugged.

“That abomination breaks just about every rule of coffee,” he shook his head as if that would get rid of the taste, before remembering he had his own coffee that might help. He only hoped the taste of his own would not be ruined by what he had just subjected himself to. “In fact, I’m not even sure you can call that coffee.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll order one with sugarless syrups,” he finally brought himself up to smiling across at Geralt, grateful the other was trying to return things back to normal. It was sweet. Not as sweet as his coffee, but sweet nonetheless. “They’re not as nice in my opinion, but it might open you up to-“ He stopped mid sentence, eyes going wide as his words trailed off before he yanked off the serviette that was stuck to the bottom of Geralt’s cup. “Geralt, you sly dog!”

Geralt merely blinked as he swallowed his mouthful and put the cup back down, unable to think of why on earth he had just been called a dog.

“Look!” Jaskier turned the serviette around to show Geralt the name and number written on it. “Your barista- _Sebastian_ ,” he said the name in a seductive voice, using the serviette to fan himself, “Gave you his number!”

“Oh. I didn’t realise.” Which was true. He had not.

“Wh-“ Jaskier blinked, “What did you think it was?”

Geralt shrugged and relaxed back in his chair again, unfazed. “I don’t know. The order number I guess.”

Stunned silence.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier eventually spluttered out, of course the silence would not last long, it never did, “You thought that this place had served so many people today that they were in the…” he paused temporarily to quickly count the numbers, “Eleven digits for an order number?!”

“You had to count how many digits are in a phone number?”

Jaskier shook his head in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Does it really matter?”

“Geralt, that man put himself out there and gave you his number because he thinks you’re hot and he wants you to text him.”

Geralt’s nose scrunched.

“What?” He leant back in his chair and stirred his drink with the straw before causally asking, “Is he not your type? Are you not in to guys?”

Geralt could not even remember what the man had looked like so he peered past Jaskier’s shoulder and back to the counter where Sebastian and Alexis were currently huddled together and looking right back at him while whispering between themselves. Jaskier waggled his fingers at them as Geralt turned his attention back to him.

“Not my type,” as if he would have considered it even if he was.

“Then what is your type because believe me you could do a lot worse than him.” He tried to remain cool at the fact that Geralt had not commented on the sexuality side of things. Even without a straight answer (hah, straight) at least he knew by now that Geralt was not homophobic otherwise with Jaskier’s incessant flirting he would surely have received a black eye by now. Would not be the first and probably would not be the last.

Another shrug. “I don’t know. People.”

Jaskier slammed the serviette down on the table to be as dramatic as ever. “He is people!”

“Quiet people.”

“He is people.”

Geralt rolled his eyes trying to distract from the smile he failed to hold back when Jaskier whispered. _What an idiot_.

“Are you dating someone?” Jaskier blurted out finally though his eyes widened with regret as Geralt raised a brow at him.

Geralt sighed, rubbing his fingers across his forehead as he thought of how to phrase it to get Jaskier to drop the subject once and for all. “No. I’m not dating anyone nor am I looking to date anyone. I’ve got bigger things in my life to worry about.”

All Jaskier took from that was a _fuck yeah, he’s single_. He nodded, respecting the answer Geralt had given. “I understand. But what you need to understand is that you could find love in the most unexpected of places and if you let someone in to your life they could help you deal with those things you’re worrying about. _Sebastian_ could be the love of your-“

Geralt held up a hand to silence the other and surprisingly it worked. He might have to use that more often. The quiet remained for a few moments while Geralt kept still, concentrating. “We’ve got to go now. The ferry’s leaving in twenty minutes.”

“How the-“ Jaskier scowled as he watched Geralt down the rest of his coffee before rising from his seat and pulling on his jacket, “How in the bleeding hell do you know that? Did the waves call to you?”

Geralt looked at him as though the answer was obvious. And it was really. “No. The tannoy.”

A barista clearing a nearby table butted in with her own confused look, “You can hear the tannoy from all the way over here?”

Jaskier pointed animatedly at her in replacement of saying ‘ _Yeah, what she said, you weirdo_ ’.

Geralt merely shrugged and nodded towards the door suggesting Jaskier should hurry up and follow him. “I have good hearing.”

“And where exactly was this good hearing when I asked you which of my songs you liked best?”

There was no reply because Geralt had already exited the cafe, leaving behind a still pouting Jaskier. He was about to follow the man out of the door when he quickly turned on his heels and darted back to where they had been sitting, the barista having already moved on to clearing their table.

“I’ll take that, thank you,” he whipped Geralt’s serviette off of the tray she was using and pocketed it.

For Geralt’s sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell i wrote this chapter because i miss iced coffee
> 
> Some pinterest things for this chapter:
> 
> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/843721311429788188/?nic_v1=1anXGSmqc9Ni1V9RSGof68UeP2Rgegfjc63mTRISdQBh6xu8ROidwykq6xnbkC8FzA
> 
> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/843721311429786956/?nic_v1=1atISJrJ3Hm8XR1IeJZS7e58n%2BYMvcV%2Ft6ixQow1Ki3W0WDTJveCtm9mEZ5%2B1WPDRE
> 
> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/843721311429786989/?nic_v1=1aAhl7rMHeV4JHxNi1gcRr%2BLqBZFq9%2FL9p5Fd5UUtGu5%2BEDDCMHf1Dv3I9MAHUt7Oy


	4. You may as well pick it up on your way. -Y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll shove two bags somewhere else in you if you don’t leave the sass to me, thank you."
> 
> “Can only fit one, rod’s already up there.”
> 
> “Lucky Rodney.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING
> 
> this chapter contains spoilers for the film The Shape Of Water (if you can still call them spoilers, the films been out since 2017)
> 
> Here is Jaskier's shirt for the chapter: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/843721311430387723/?nic_v1=1azOR4DoG7peOlgU0wZVqGm70yoiVa74OrqOc4j3aFH%2FzDylNctPPN11Pvo9pNDkp%2B

“Welcome back to today’s top fifty chart. That was number thirty-three: Britney Spears’ ‘Toxic’ and coming in at number thirty-two we have ‘Toxic’ by Britney Spears…”

Jaskier began the first lot of notes with as much enthusiasm as he had with his previous repetitions and Geralt’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. Had it really been eighteen times over already? He had warned Jaskier around the third and fifth and zoned out on the sixth, so the man could have truly played anything since then and he would not have known. It was only now that he was concentrating on trying to find a parking space that he had honed back in on the distraction that was the bard’s efforts.

Efforts that suddenly saw a quick snap and loud twang.

“Oh, shit.”

“Oh, thank God.”

The two men spoke over each other. Geralt, relieved that the song had come to an abrupt halt. Jaskier, upset that his pick had just snapped in two.

“God fucking damn it more like,” Jaskier muttered under his breath as he stared in disbelief at the half that remained in his hand.

“I could say something about karma…” Geralt smirked.That is what you get for torturing the universe (or maybe just Geralt) with multiple repetitions of a song.

“Or you could not.” The half of the pick inside the guitar rattled as Geralt drove over a speed bump. “That was my last bloody pick. I forgot to put some more in the case.”

“What a shame we have to cut your top fifty down.” It was not.

“I mean,” Jaskier plucked at the strings with his fingers instead, “I can see how much the thought of that upsets you. I can just play with my fingers- oops, phrasing.”

“Please don’t. I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Ugh,” Jaskier grunted and reluctantly relaxed his hands upon Geralt’s request. He looked out of the window as Geralt drove around the multi-storey car park, trying to figure out where they were. If he was quite honest, he had been paying far much more attention to mastering his performance than where Geralt had taken him. At least it was not an empty carpark. Lots of witnesses here if Geralt decided to snap like a pick and murder him. “I dressed up as her in that video for Halloween once. I’m sure I still have the outfit somewhere…” he mused casually.

“Dare I ask what one?” Geralt was not entirely paying attention as he thought he spied a space a few rows away.

Jaskier barked a laugh as he tried to shake half of the pick out of his guitar. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” It fell in to the footwell and Jaskier cursed quietly. Not currently able to see it, he would have to remember to pick it up when they got out of the car.

“Can’t say that I’m that bothered with not knowing,” Geralt hit the breaks abruptly as an old man hurried in to the space before him. Jaskier gave the man a glare on Geralt’s behalf. “I thought Halloween costumes were supposed to be scary? Britney’s not exactly scary.” Though the threat of having to listen to the same song fifty times in a row could be considered pretty terrifying.

“I painted fang marks on my neck, I’ll have you know. I have quite a nice neck so why not draw attention to it.” Lithe fingers stroked where the make up had once been. “I’m sure any vampire would be delighted to feast upon this flesh.”

“Giraffe neck,” Geralt muttered as he finally found a space to pull in to, sans an old man.

“Oit,” Jaskier lightly smacked Geralt’s bicep with the back of his hand, probably doing more damage to himself than anything. Geralt barely noticed. He looked out of the window again, noting a sign attached to one of the pillars. A shopping centre. Huh. “So this is not London,” he concluded.

“Call me Watson, I’ve just got myself a Sherlock.” They had not been driving for anywhere near long enough for them to be in London already.

Jaskier resisted the urge to smack Geralt again. Where was he finding all this sass today? Was he rubbing off on him? Not a terrible thought. He shook his head to clear a few more thoughts that came to mind. “This is not London so why are we here?”

“I’ve got to pick up a few things.”

“Ominous,” Jaskier scoffed. “What ‘things’,” he air quoted, “Have you got to pick up? Drugs? A weapon? A body?”

“We haven’t got any more room for another body. Unless of course you’d let it sit on your lap.”

“Depends what this body looked like,” he waggled his eyebrows and Geralt rolled his eyes as he unbuckled his seat belt, Jaskier copying soon after.

“Like I said, I’ve got to go and pick up some stuff-“

“Ominous stuff.”

Geralt nodded as he closed the car door. “Some ominous stuff. You can… I don’t know. Go off and explore? Do what you want? I don’t care. Just meet me back here in an hour or so.”

“Or so?”

“Or so.”

“So when?”

“An hour or so.”

“So _when_?”

“I don’t know!”

Jaskier rolled his eyes as he put his guitar back in to it’s case and placed it with his other bag on the back seat. “Geralt, I am not standing here waiting for you like a peach.”

“Lemon,” Geralt corrected, locking up Roach and trying to find the signs that pointed to the entrance of the shopping centre.

“For those as bitter as you, yes, lemon,” he followed Geralt, “I am sweet, ergo: peach.”

“That’s not how it-“ _no, do not bother, it is not worth it_. He sighed. “I don’t know exactly how long I’m going to need, so you’re going to have to.”

“Or you could do the sensible thing and give me your number so that we can text each other and you can keep me updated.”

“If I lose you for long enough I’ll just put out a tannoy like they do for kids that lose their parents in supermarkets.”

“You mean…” Jaskier paused for a moment, stopping in his tracks, looking up at Geralt with wide eyes when the man eventually stopped too, realising Jaskier was no longer at his side, “You wouldn’t leave without me?”

“I… _that’s_ what you take from what I just said?”

Jaskier simply grinned at him as he fished his phone from his back pocket. “I’m kidding.” He handed it over to Geralt with a smirk, “I _know_ you wouldn’t leave without me.”

Geralt looked at Jaskier. And then the phone. And then Jaskier.

“If you call me, I won’t answer.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jaskier forced back an even bigger grin as he watched Geralt type out his number in to the phone before thrusting it back at his chest. “A thank you!” he huffed before another mischievous smirk appeared. “Smile!”

Geralt frowned at the order, not realising soon enough as Jaskier shoved the phone up to his face and snapped a quick picture to set as Geralt’s contact image. “Really? Is that necessary? I don’t know anyone who actually assigns photos to numbers.”

“Geralt, sweetheart,” Geralt’s nose scrunched at the pet name, “Judging from your social prowess you know like two people in total, so I’m not surprised.”

Geralt made no attempt to comment on the falsehood of the statement and instead started to walk off again. Jaskier followed of course, but tapped out a text as he walked.

Geralt’s phone vibrated in his pocket, so he took it out to check the notification. Text message. Unrecognised number.

12:34:14 Testing, testing. 1, 2, 1, 2 -J

Geralt shot Jaskier a look that said ‘ _Really_?’

12:34:47 What? I had to check that you’d given me the right number and not palmed me off with a number for some random takeaway place. -J

12:35:00 Speaking from experience, are you? -G

12:35:10 Talking like Yoda, are we? -J

“Cut it out,” Geralt barked after reading his message and saving Jaskier to his list of contacts, something he had hoped he would never have to do. He put his phone back in his pocket only for it to vibrate again.

12:35:30 Okay. -J

Jaskier held up his hands pleading innocence when Geralt gave him a glare and gave in, taking out his phone again just in case the message was from somebody important.

It was not.

12:35:42 My bad. -J

“And,” Geralt drew out the word, “Block number.”

“What? No!” Jaskier whined with a pout to match.

“You can’t be trusted with power; you abuse it.”

“Fine, fine! I’ll behave. Emergencies only. I promise.”

Geralt hid his smirk from Jaskier by walking in to the centre, although that meant that he did not see Jaskier remove his hand from behind his back to reveal his crossed fingers with a matching smirk.

It was fairly quiet for a Wednesday lunchtime. At least, Geralt would have expected it to be a little bit busier than it was. Hopefully that would mean he would find himself leaving the place a lot sooner than he thought. He hated shopping centres.He would not even drive anywhere near them in the run up to Christmas.

“It’ll probably get busier once the schools are let out,” Jaskier commented as if he could read Geralt’s mind, which, if Geralt was honest, threw him off a little.

“Hm,” he grunted, “I want to be out of here by then.”

“Not a kid person, Geralt?” Jaskier chuckled but it was soon cut off by a gasp. There quiet flap where Jaskier darted off with such speed that his shirt flicked in the air. Geralt reluctantly followed him, albeit much slower. “They have a cinema in here!” Jaskier pointed to a poster outside of the aforementioned cinema when the other caught up to him.

Geralt blinked. He had things to do and this was not one of them. He was about to leave Jaskier standing there when the man got even more excited.

“Oh my God, they’re having a Guillermo del Toro fortnight,” he let his finger slide down the list of dates and titles until he came to the film that was currently showing. “Ah! Fate! Today is The Shape of Water- that’s one of my favourite films. Have you ever seen it?”

“No. Is it the one where she fucks the monster?”

“I- what- no! Well… that’s not the point, Geralt. He’s not the monster. It’s a wonderful, heartwarming film!”

“Gross.”

Jaskier scoffed, but his fond smile soon returned as he continued to swoon. “Plus the cinematography is beautiful and the score?” He hugged his arms to his chest and squeezed tight. “I first watched it on a whim one night in the flat after uh…” his arms fell back to his sides, “A kinda shitty break up. When the credits rolled, I immediately ran a bath and listened to the entire score _twice_ even though the water had long grown cold by then but my heart was more than warm enough.”

“Your skin would have got so wrinkly…”

“Come on, we have to go in and watch it. I have to know what you think of the ending.”

“I did not come here to watch a film. I can watch films at home. Films that I will actually enjoy. For free.” What was the point in spending money on a film he knew he would not enjoy watching. Romantic films were far from his thing.

“Oh come on, Geralt! I loved this film the first time I saw it. I would have loved to have seen it on a big screen.” Geralt did not expect to then be met with wide, puppy dog eyes and a jutted out bottom lip. “We could just go in and have a look at what the times are for it…”

Before Geralt could even finish a roll of his eyes, Jaskier had taken it as an act of submission and was already dragging him in by the wrist. Much to Geralt’s annoyance, but Jaskier of course ignored this, far too excited by the prospect of seeing one of his favourite films on the big screen like it deserved to be seen.

There was always such a distinctive smell to cinemas. Sickly. Popcorn and sugar and something fried which was weird because they never fried anything in them. Kids could get hyper on the smell of the place alone. Geralt only hoped it would not be the case with Jaskier, though with the level of enthusiasm he was being dragged at towards the ticket machines, he was losing hope by the second.

Jaskier let go of Geralt so that he could tap away at the touchscreen, humming all the while. His heart sunk a little when the title did not immediately show up on the screen, worrying that they had already missed it, but a quick swipe soon rectified it and he was back to practically buzzing.

Tap. Tap.

“Oh now come on. It’s showing in five minutes. That’s fate that is.”

“Jaskier, I have stuff to do.”

Tap. Tap.

“Jaskier.”

Tap.

“Jaskier, no.”

Jaskier, yes. Tap.

“Oops, my card slipped.” The machine beeped to say that it had accepted payment and printed out the tickets shortly after, barely touching the tray before Jaskier had pulled them out and waved them in the air triumphantly.

Geralt sighed and rubbed his fingers across the bridge of his nose. “Do you ever do as your told?”

“When I want to,” he hummed and led the way to the wall of sweets or as Geralt would call it, the wall of tooth decay.

“You’re going to get sweets? What are you? Ten?”

“Oh Geralt, that’s so sweet of you! I would say I’m more of a nine at most- okay no, I can’t even joke about that, I am a definite ten.” He had already grabbed a paper bag from the display and began to pick out some choices from the wall.

“I thought you said it was starting any minute now?” he asked after checking the time on his phone. “Do you not worry about the amount of people that have stuck their hands in to those trays?” Geralt’s nose scrunched in disgust.

Clearly not, because Jaskier had already filled a good bit of the bag with various colourful sweets. It was becoming more and more apparent to Geralt that Jaskier’s self-preservation was non existent.

“It’s fine. They always show a bunch of adverts first; we can miss them. This is much more important,” he scooped some more in to the bag. “The added germs are what makes it fun, Geralt. Come on, pick something. You can tell a lot about someone from what sweets they pick.”

“True. From the amount you’ve picked I can tell that you are in fact, an actual child,” he folded his arms in protest. “I don’t eat sweets.”

“Well try something then.”

If yesterday’s incident at the horrid hipster cafe was anything to go by, Geralt could conclude that this ordeal would be over lot sooner and be a lot less painful if he just went along with it. The bright colours covering the wall housed a distinct lack of dark chocolate, so chocolate was out of the question. In theory, he could have just picked any old thing from any old tub on the wall and hope that Jaskier would forget Geralt had picked it and just eat them himself, but then something familiar caught his eye. He took one of the little scoops from a container at the bottom of the wall and shovelled a couple of the fruit gums on to it before dumping them in to Jaskier’s bag. He remembered trying them when he first came over to England.

“Ooh, wine gums! Good choice. You know I ate a whole share bag in the space of about ten minutes as a kid and stumbled about the house because I was _convinced_ I was drunk because why wouldn’t they make me drunk? They’re called _wine_ gums. They have alcohol in.”

“Of course you thought that.” Geralt rolled his eyes as if he, too, had not thought the exact same thing as a kid.

“Threw up an hour later. No hangover though,” Jaskier chuckled, busying himself with adding a few final sweets scattered on top of Geralt’s pick. He was particularly delighted to see that they had his favourite fizzy peach sweets too and narrowly avoided the temptation to fill up another bag purely with those. Though he would consider it again on their way out of the cinema.

Bag suitably full, Jaskier handed it over to the cashier for her to weigh. He would pretend that he did not see her peer over the counter to see if they had a child with them.

“Anything else for you today? Drinks? Popcorn?”

“I’m fin-“

“Can I get a medium fizzy raspberry slushy please and a medium sweet popcorn.”

Both Jaskier and the cashier then looked to Geralt and the man could tell that Jaskier’s smile was trying to be encouraging. He sighed. “Bottle of water and a large salted popcorn, please. Thank you.”

“Large? Look at you, going all out on junk food,” Jaskier tapped Geralt’s arm with the back of his hand, “I bet the only crisps you eat are vegetable ones.”

“Yeah, and?”

Jaskier scoffed and went to pull his card from his pocket when the cashier had finished ringing up their total, but Geralt beat him to it. “Hey, Geralt, no. A lot of this stuff is mine and it was my idea anyway. You don’t have to-“

“You paid for the tickets.” Geralt had not been to the cinema in a very, very long time but he was sure that the prices had not changed that- “Oh wow,” his eyes widened as the price popped up on the card reader. Regardless, he tapped his card to it, dismissed the need for a receipt and picked up his water and popcorn. Next time he would bring his own food and drink. Not that he was planning to ever break his usual rule of not visiting the cinema ever again.

“Thank you, Geralt. You shouldn’t have, but thank you,” much to his annoyance, Jaskier found that his cheeks felt slightly warm, so he took a sip of his icy drink.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he huffed, but Jaskier could tell from his eyes that he was smiling on the inside.

“Come on, sign says our screen is over this way.”

Geralt frowned and stayed where he was. “Do you not want to go to the toilet first?” he asked, noticing Jaskier had already drunk quite a substantial amount of the slushy already. In any case, Geralt needed to go himself, so he put his purchases down on the sofa that was conveniently placed outside the door to the toilets.

“Geralt, may I remind you I asked you to buy me dinner first before you attempt to proposition me again.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Thank you. I’m good out here. Hurry up.”

Hands full with food and too lazy to put anything down, Jaskier would have passed the time waiting for Geralt by checking his phone, but instead he just stood there, occasionally flicking out his tongue to get pieces of popcorn to stick to it.

“You look like a lizard,” Geralt commented on the sight he left the toilets to find.

“I have an impressive tongue,” Jaskier managed around the few pieces in his mouth.

Again, Geralt ignored this in favour of picking up his own popcorn and his drink and followed the signs to screen thirteen. Unlucky for some.

“Oh wow, well that’s just insulting,” you could just about hear Jaskier’s voice over the sound of the adverts. The room was empty. “This is a good film! This place should be filled to the brim.”

“Just a quiet day in general.” Geralt did not know why he felt the need to comfort the other over something he should not even have been offended by. Who on Earth got offended on behalf of a film? “At least you can pick anywhere to sit.”

This seemed to help as even in this dark of a room, Geralt could see Jaskier’s eyes light up at the opportunity and he wasted no time in leading the way to the dead centre of the room. For some reason, he even felt the need to apologise to the non existent other theatre goers as he shuffled down the row. Geralt just rolled his eyes, following without apologising, but he had a hint of a small smile which he forced away when he sat down. Despite an empty theatre, he still chose to sit next to Jaskier, not thinking anything of it. It was just the done thing.

“I’m surprised you didn’t go to sit in the back row. I bet that’s where you usually sit, right?”

“Geralt if you’re hinting to what I think you’re hinting it, you are more than welcome to initiate,” Jaskier batted his eyelashes innocently and Geralt just scoffed. “It’s a shame these aren’t the reclining seats that you get in some of the newer cinemas. Those are nice. Or you can go to ones where they have sofas so you can cuddle up. Those are cute…” his sentence tailed off in to a yawn. A yawn that many people may find familiar in such a setting. However, as his arm stretched out, trying to find it’s place, it was met by a jab of Geralt’s hand as he batted it away.

“Don’t even think about it,” he punctuated each word before standing back up and climbing over the seat in front of him with ease, making sure to take his water and popcorn with him. He settled down in to his new seat and unscrewed the top off of the water bottle.

“Hey!” Jaskier whined in protest. He had wanted Geralt to sit next to him so that he could watch the man’s reactions to the film. To see if he had a heart somewhere in there or if he was stone through and through. Jaskier, ever the child, resorted to throwing popcorn in to Geralt’s hair.

On about the eighth piece, Geralt finally noticed, raking a hand through his hair to pull them out before turning round to shoot Jaskier a glare.

“Oh good, finally, thought I was going to have to waste half a bag to get your attention. Come back up here.”

Geralt turned around. He threw the handful of popcorn back over his shoulder. Not that he saw it, but Jaskier rather impressively caught a piece in his mouth.

Since Geralt was showing no signs of returning any time soon, Jaskier decided to take matters in to his own hands. “Hey,” Jaskier whispered in to Geralt’s ear, leaning on the back of the man’s chair, “Hold this for me.”

Geralt had flinched when Jaskier’s head had appeared next to his own. Mainly in surprise and the maybe smallest fraction because the man’s breath on his ear had tickled him. Before he could say anything, another bag of popcorn was thrust in to his hands, making a few pieces fall off of the pile and on to his lap.

Luckily, Jaskier did not fall on to his lap, though it looked like it might end up that way as he clambered awkwardly over the back of the chair next to Geralt with a lot less finesse than the other had shown. Settling in to the seat, he slotted his drink in to the holder next to him and took the bag of sweets from between his teeth to put it on his lap before he took his popcorn from Geralt. “Oops, missed some.” He picked up a piece that had been left behind on Geralt’s thigh and popped it to his mouth that was pulled in to a rather large smile.

Geralt sighed.

Wedging the bag of popcorn between the side of the chair and his thigh, Jaskier opened up the bag of pick and mix, rummaging around blindly until he found one of the winegums. “Here.” Now, when he held it out level to Geralt’s face, he had expected the man to turn to him with a look of disgust because, gross, another set of hands touching the sweet he had not even really wanted due to the lack of hygiene levels. Instead, Geralt had turned to him, yes, but instead of a look of disgust, Geralt simply took the sweet with his teeth, just catching the very tips of Jaskier’s fingers and turned back to the screen as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Jaskier’s hand remained hovering in the same position, still shocked and after a beat or two, Geralt noticed and turned back to him, expecting it to be holding another sweet, which he would have turned down due to still having the first one in his mouth. He pushed that one in to his cheek to talk a little easier.

But it looked obscene.

“What are you doing?”

Jaskier’s hand fell back in to the bag and he sat back straight, eyes now glued to the screen.

Geralt waited for an answer and when it became apparent there was not going to be one, he huffed and settled back in his seat too, though a lot more comfortable than how Jaskier seemed.

After about a minute or so sitting in silence while the adverts continued to play, Geralt was about to ask Jaskier for another sweet to break him out of this freaky dead still position he had not moved from, when the last advert played and title card came up on the screen. Geralt may not visit the cinema often, but he respected the etiquette all the same. He remained quiet, but found relief in the fact that Jaskier had snapped out of whatever was going through his mind and finally began to move again, like his joints had been oiled.

The man was back to buzzing with excitement and Geralt could see the white of his teeth out of the corner of his eye as the first few harp notes sounded for the opening theme. Was he really this excited about a film that he had already seen? Geralt supposed it could be seen as sweet in a way, he must really bloody love this film. He himself could not imagine getting this excited about a film.

Geralt could feel some sort of vibration in his leg and then a rub of fabric against his trousers and he glanced in time to see Jaskier’s leg bouncing up and down against his own. People bounced their leg when they were nervous, right? But the grin on Jaskier’s face looked far from anxious. He was battling the urge to place a hand on the other’s leg to cease the movement, not that the movement itself was annoying him, just the nagging feeling in the back of Geralt’s mind that Jaskier was nervous for some reason (perhaps nervous that Geralt would not enjoy the film?). His hand twitched on his lap, but froze as Jaskier moved to take his drink out of the cup holder, only just catching Geralt staring at him.

Jaskier glanced between Geralt and Geralt’s line of sight before quickly moving his legs to the other side of the chair. “Ah sorry,” he whispered as if they were not the only two in the room, “I don’t even realise when I’m doing it. I’m just pretty psyched for this.”

“It’s fine,” Geralt felt the need to reassure the other.

Jaskier just gave him a small, sheepish smile as he picked up his drink and turned his attention back to the screen, grateful that it was too dark in the room for the other to see him blush.

“ _If I spoke about it - If I did - What would I tell you? I wonder. Would I tell you about the time? It happened a long time ago it seems, in the last days of a fair prince’s reign. Or would I tell you about the place? A small city from the coast, but far from everything else. Or… I don’t know. Would I tell you about her? The princess without voice. Or perhaps I would just warn you about the truth of these facts… and the tale of love and loss… and the monster who tired to destroy it all…_ ”

Out of the corner of his eye, Geralt caught Jaskier mouthing along with the narration. He found himself smiling.

About forty or so minutes in to the film, Jaskier uncrossed and recrossed his legs, shuffling uncomfortably in his seat as sucked up the remains of his drink. Geralt, who up until this point had actually been quite glued to the screen, not that he would admit it, glanced over at the movement and thought perhaps the man was just a bit upset with the fact that the creature was currently being beaten. That was until Jaskier shot up out of his chair.

“Nope. I need the loo,” he announced out of the blue.

“I did tell you to go beforehand,” Geralt could not help but feel rather amused as watched the other squirm.

“Yes, well, I didn’t need to go then,” Jaskier’s voice was still at a harsh whisper, “Move your tree trunk legs, I’ve got to go.”

He slapped Geralt’s knees as he passed, barely waiting for him to move them. He needed the toilet and he needed it _now._ Curse those delicious, sugary slushies. Jaskier loved them, but he did not love how they always seemed to go straight to his bladder. He power walked out of the room and hurtled across to the toilets, barely giving his eyes a chance to adjust to the new level of lighting. Thankfully there was not some super popular film out at the moment so he managed to walk in to another empty room.

A sigh of relief echoed around the toilets along with the sound of a significant flow. As he stood there relieving himself, he wondered if Geralt was enjoying the film. Of course, it would not be to the level that Jaskier loved it, but from the few quick sideways glances he had stolen, the man had not exactly seemed disinterested. Jaskier even thought he had heard a quiet chuckle when Elisa found Strickland’s fingers.

“Fuck Strickland,” he grumbled quietly before shaking his head to bring himself back to the present. He could not get too lost in his thoughts, he wanted to get back to the film as quickly as possible.

“You keep it together this time, you hear me?” He pointed an accusatory finger at himself in the mirror when he walked up to the sink to wash his hands. “No crying. Puffy eyes and snot are not hot.”

Luckily he had not still been pointing to himself when another man walked in to the toilets and gave Jaskier a confused look so he looked a bit saner than he might have, but regardless he smiled apologetically to let the man know the comment had not been directed at him.

A quick dry of his hands and Jaskier was out of there as quick as he had come in. When he walked back in to the screen this time, he allowed his eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness. A positive of the film being criminally underrated was that he could spot Geralt a mile off rather than having to do that awkward look around to try and remember where you were sitting. He took the stairs two at a time, trying to hurry himself because he knew what part was coming up next.

Geralt did not even notice that Jaskier had returned until the man was tapping his knees again. Jaskier took note of Geralt’s look of realisation, delighted that he had been too distracted by the film, but pushed away the smile was that threatening to appear by biting his tongue. He did wait for Geralt to move his legs this time. Not that it helped for he caught the tip of his shoe on one of Geralt’s and immediately lost his balance falling forward with his arms flailing. However, a strong arm darted out in front of his chest to hold him up, preventing him from falling flat on his face. They held this position for a brief moment before Jaskier straightened up, smoothed down his shirt and cleared his throat.

“Thank you,” again, another whisper as he patted Geralt’s arm that was still hovering in front of his chest. Just in case.

“You’re welcome,” Geralt huffed, retracting his arm and watched Jaskier sit back down in his seat. “You haven’t missed much,” he tried to joke, but Jaskier was already back to being engrossed in the film.

“ _When he looks at me, the way he looks at me... He does not know what I lack... Or how I am incomplete. He sees me, for what I am, as I am. He's happy to see me. Every time. Every day._ ”

Again, Geralt watched Jaskier rather than the film as he mouthed along to Elisa’s plea.

He could see why the man wanted to hurry back and somewhere deep down inside him, Geralt was glad he did.

“ _If I told you about her, what would I say? That they lived happily ever after? I believe they did. That they were in love? That they remained in love? I'm sure that's true. But when I think of her - of Elisa - the only thing that comes to mind is a poem, whispered by someone in love, hundreds of years ago: "Unable to perceive the shape of You, I find You all around me. Your presence fills my eyes with Your love, It humbles my heart, For You are everywhere._ ”

Even though he was tired from not sleeping much the night before due to being in a shitty cheap hotel room, Geralt stayed awake for the entire film and in all honesty- he actually enjoyed it. He turned to Jaskier as the credits started to roll just as the man let out an audible sniff. Was he-?

“So? Did you enjoy it?” He asked, voice back to a normal level and wiped away a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand. No snot.

Geralt was nice enough to not comment on Jaskier’s current state. Mainly because he would not know what to do if the man suddenly full on broke down crying. “It was alright.”

“Christ, high praise coming from you! Must be your new favourite film, right?” Jaskier grinned before closing his eyes with a sigh of bliss as if he was letting the music sink in to his very soul.

Geralt just blinked watching him for a few moments before standing up, feeling awkward as if he was intruding in a very private moment.

Jaskier did not even notice the other trying to make his exit until he felt the thump of the chair next to him folding up in the absence of someone sitting in it. “No, come on, relax a minute. Let it sink in,” he tugged on Geralt’s arm gently, trying to encourage the man to sit back down. He was met by a little resistance, mainly due to the fact that Geralt’s mind was nagging him that he had stuff to do and the centre was going to get busier now that they had been in there for a couple of hours. Still, he sat back down without a word of complaint, though he was not really sure as to why.

“Not many people stay for the credits anymore these days,” Jaskier spoke up after a while. His head fell back to rest against the chair so he could look up to the ceiling.

“So that the staff can come in and clean to get ready for the next film.” It was not a dig and to reassure this, Geralt let his head fall back to mimic Jaskier’s position.

Jaskier tilted his own head to look at Geralt and fight back, but then watched as Geralt readjusted and smiled at him instead. “Mm, well lucky for them they’re not exactly dealing with a full theatre today, are they?”

“The popcorn you threw at me is on the floor.”

Jaskier chuckled at that and noticed Geralt’s eyes closing. The man’s hardened exterior seemed to soften gradually and Jaskier liked to think it was the music relaxing him. He looked almost serene. Jaskier looked back up to the ceiling closing his eyes once more, but this time he sang along quietly, lyrics memorised from hours of floating around the flat, graceful limbs moving in time with the music.

Geralt felt himself teetering on the edge of consciousness until a soft hand on his shoulder brought him fully back at the end of the song.

Jaskier stifled a small laugh. “Sorry, you said you had stuff to do, sleepyhead.”

It was met by a grunt that was followed by a crack of joints as Geralt stretched out his arms with a yawn. Jaskier slapped the outstretched hand and immediately apologised when Geralt looked up at him, confused by the action.

“I see an outstretched hand, I hi-five it. Force of habit,” he shrugged, waiting for Geralt to get up and leave so that he could follow.

Geralt just rolled his eyes and picked up their rubbish before he led the way out of the theatre.

“Come on then. What did you think of the ending? What do you think happened? I won’t tell you my interpretation until you’ve decided because I do not want to influence you.”

Geralt rolled his eyes as he threw away their empty bags of popcorn in to the bin as they passed it. Jaskier had finished his own bag about an hour in, so Geralt had offered up what remained of his and was met with no protest. “Don’t worry I can guess yours,” he huffed out a small laugh.

“Oh?” Jaskier raised a brow, surprised that Geralt would be able to label him as so predictable after knowing him for such a short amount of time. “Go on then, enlighten me,” came the challenge.

Geralt cleared his throat, prepping himself with a smug smile. “You want to believe that she belonged with the creature. That the scars on her neck were gills all along and his healing magic knew how to change them back which saved her life so that they could swim back to the Amazon and live happily ever after.”

“Well- I mean…” Jaskier placed his hands on his hips with a disgruntled huff, “Yes, but only because that is clearly the true ending-“

“And not because you’re a predictable romantic?”

“Go on, arsehole,” he grumbled, “What do _you_ think happened?”

Geralt took a moment, trying to decide whether or not it was a good idea based on how much he knew the film meant to the man. Still, he guessed he was probably just as predictable as Jaskier was. “She dies. She came from the water and the creature returns her to the water. Judging from Giles’ choice of words, he does not know what happened to her, and I think the film showing her with gills is what Giles would like to believe. He’s an artist, a romantic like you, he wants the happy ending. But you can tell it from his voice. He’s hurt.”

“You can’t tell shit,” Jaskier sniffed again but covered it up with a quick chuckle. “I just really like it, okay?”

“Mm. It was good.”

“Good?!” Jaskier clasped a hand to his chest and used the other to brace himself against a wall like he might feint, “You’ve gone from ‘alright’ to ‘good’? This has to be the most raving review of the century.”

Geralt rolled his eyes at the dramatics, but it did not hide his smile. “I think you could learn a thing or two from Elisa about being quiet.”

“Geralt, she’s mute. She doesn’t have a choice.”

“So what’s your excuse?”

Jaskier could not help but bark a laugh and made himself comfortable up against the wall. “Darling, unlike my dear Elisa, I was blessed with the gift of a beautiful, beautiful voice and it would be cruel and unjust if I denied it to the world.”

“I think the film was kind of trying to tell you you can say a lot without having to talk.”

“True!” Jaskier beamed, glad that Geralt had picked up on it. “You’ve got me there. The creature and Elisa have the best communication in the film without having to utter a single word…”

‘ _Words lie, but looks don’t_ ’, Jaskier thought of the words he had read from an interview with the director and could have sworn the world stood still for an hour or two as he gazed in to Geralt’s eyes and he looked back at him. Was that the slightest tinge of pink to the man’s cheeks?

“I’ll text you when I’m done,” Geralt was the first to break the eye contact, barely even finishing his sentence before he turned around and started walking off in to the flow of people.

 _Ah, fuck_. Jaskier stood there, emotions swirling in his stomach as he watched Geralt walk away. One of his heels bounced up and down, his body impatient with him for not running after the man, but his mind knowing better than to show that much desperation. Instead, he pulled his phone and his earphones out of his pocket and loaded up the soundtrack.

Geralt clearly wanted some time to himself and did not want to be stumbling in to Jaskier at any given time while he was busy doing whatever shady thing he was doing. However, that did not mean that Jaskier was going to waste this time not having fun himself. He just had to figure out a way to do so without the possibility of running in to Geralt. He settled on clothes shopping because judging from Geralt’s… ‘imaginative’ wardrobe choices that seemed to be the same bottoms with a slightly different shade of dark shirt, he did not do much of it. Probably bulk bought online to avoid the human interaction.

As he walked in to one of his favourite clothing chains, Jaskier found himself smirking at the thought of Geralt online shopping in a dark fortress of solitude. Perhaps he would keep an eye out for something that might suit the man, surely it would not be that difficult to eyeball his size? He stopped the thought as soon as it entered his head. Why would he buy something for someone he had just met (of course, the absurdity of travelling with him did not come first)? For someone who definitely would not see the humour in it and just find it weird. Besides, Jaskier’s tastes were far, _far_ different to Geralt’s. So instead he focused on himself.

He probably had room in his rucksack for one more shirt and being his optimistic self, he did not want to settle for the first shirt he found cute in the first shop he went in to in case he found something better in another shop. This led to him taking several changing room selfies in various shirts that he found, so that he had a whole album to refer to in order to make his final decision.

Jaskier hummed to himself for a brief moment in the last changing room of the day before deciding to test the waters.

16:25:03 Help me choose. -J

16:26:08 ?? I gave you my number in case of emergencies and so that I could tell you when I’m done. I’m not done with shopping, but I am feeling quite done with you. -G

16:26:17 Firstly: rude. -J

16:26:26 Secondly: HAH I KNEW IT I knew you didn’t block my number. -J

16:26:37 We are sorry, your message could not be delivered to this number. -G

16:26:38 Thirdly: Come on, otherwise I will be filling up your car with my purchases, so help me pick just one shirt out of this bunch. -J

16:26:44 Fourthly: RUDE -J

16:26:54 You said that already. -G

16:27:01 Well you’re doubly rude. -J

16:28:33 Silent treatment is not going to get you out of this. It’s your car space I’ll be taking up with clothes if you don’t help me choose. So it’s either one shirt or all of them. Take your pick. -J

16:28:53 The first one. -G

16:29:00 Nice try, Elisa, I haven’t sent the photos yet. -J

16:29:06 We are not doing nicknames. -G

16:29:19 Well you’re too quiet for Giles and Zelda and not creepy enough for Strickland. I suppose you could be Hoffstetler. I suspect you secretly have a heart like him. -J

16:29:27 Just send me the damn shirts. -G

16:29:35 Please try not to sound so enthusiastic about it. -J

16:29:41 Right so I’ve narrowed it down to these. -J

16:29:50 [Image Attached] -J

16:29:55 [Image Attached] -J

16:29:59 [Image Attached] -J

16:30:03 [Image Attached] -J

16:30:08 [Image Attached] -J

16:30:12 [Image Attached] -J

16:30:13 Wow really narrowed down. -G

16:30:16 [Image Attached] -J

16:30:19 [Image Attached] -J

16:30:23 [Image Attached] -J

“Shit!”

“Well… shit.”

The penultimate image that Jaskier had sent fully loaded on their stream of messages at pretty much the exact same time. Only it was not the same as the others images that Jaskier had sent. Instead of him pulling some stupid pose to show off a new shirt in a differing shade of equally garish, Geralt recognised the shirt in this picture. And Jaskier was wearing it wide open without his usual t-shirt that he wore underneath, revealing a mass of hair and tattoos and a surprisingly toned stomach. And his face; Geralt could only assume that whoever the picture had been meant for would have received a rather filthy message along with it. Of course Jaskier would be the only person to still manage to look good under shitty overhead florescent changing room lighting.

The incoming stream of panicked messages helped Geralt to pull his eyes from the image he knew was not meant for his eyes.

16:30:29 I am so sorry -J

16:30:33 I swear I did not mean to send that -J

16:30:36 I would never -J

16:30:40 Honestly fuck Geralt I’m so sorry -J

16:30:45 I can’t figure out how to bloody delete it off of this -J

16:30:47 fuck -J

16:30:49 sorry -J

16:30:55 Geralt please say something so I know you don’t think I’m a creep -J

The only reason Geralt had remained silent on the issue was because he was searching for the exact image he wanted to reply with and he did not exactly know what to type in to a search engine to find it.

_Bingo_.

16:31:48 <https://me.me/i/boss-know-why-i-called-you-in-here-me-because-658e60c8ce114e14821c496e135a9dff> -G

16:31:57 The fourth one is okay. -G

16:32:09 Ass. -J

Jaskier laughed in relief, his back hitting the dressing room mirror with a dull thump and he slid down it to sit on the floor for a moment to compose himself

16:32:29 Thank you. -J

Geralt had wandered through a bunch of the shops he passed with no luck before he gave up the hope of finding what he was looking for and Jaskier had started to message him. After that whole fiasco, he decided he should probably get back on track and searched for the text from Yennefer to remind himself of the shop he was looking for on her behalf.

Vizima Crafts.

He checked for the name on a map of the shopping centre, finding it right round the corner. It was a quaint little shop. Full of little trinkets and gifts from what looked like a bunch of different artists. Some of the stuff looked half decent. In fact and he would have had a look round to see if he could find something that would do for what he wanted to buy, but he had already lost his motivation back in the seventh shop. Instead, he walked up to the counter to get Yennefer’s order over and done with.

“Abigail, right?”

The woman looked up from the box she was sorting out on the counter next to the cash register and Geralt could see the initial alarm on her face, the kind of alarm anyone would show if a stranger came up to you already knowing your name.

“I’m here to pick something up for Yennefer,” Geralt continued, an attempt to show her he was not a stalker of some sort.

The pieces seemed to click together in her head as her eyes widened sightly and she nodded knowingly. “Ah, yes. Geralt. Sorry, I didn’t recognise you at first.”

Now it was Geralt’s turn to look confused. “Recognise me?”

She nodded again, checking something on her phone before she looked back up to Geralt with a polite smile. “Mhmm. Yen told me about you so that I’d know who to look out for. I must say… she was pretty accurate.”

 _She could have just sent you a picture_ , Geralt thought to himself, though now he was curious as to how Yennefer had described him. Abigail left to go in to the back room to retrieve the order before he had a chance to enquire as to what exactly had been said about him. It was probably a good thing too, he knew Yennefer well enough to know that her description would be eye roll worthy.

“Thanks for picking it up, saved me a trip to the post office,” she handed over the order when she returned and started to unfold a paper bag for him to put it in as she watched him turn the box over in his hands. “She asked for it to be gift wrapped,” she added, leaving the open bag on the counter.

Of course she had. Yennefer was the sort of person who would just shove gifts in to a bag about a minute before she intended to give it to you, so it made sense that she would ask someone else to make it look more present-like. “S’nice, thanks.”

He took a picture with his phone before he put the gift in to the bag and nodded at her when she bid him farewell.

However, as he turned round to leave, a particular stand caught his eye and stopped him in his tracks.

 _Fuck sake_.

There, at the back of a shop, on a stand he did not notice on his way in as it had been blocked by one holding cards, was a whole lot of plectrums. Before he even realised what he was doing, his legs had already carried him halfway over to the stand. One out of the bunch had even already caught his attention.

Blue. A particular kind of blue that he could not quite figure out where he recognised it from. With a dandelion seed on it. It was almost as if Jaskier had planted the pick there himself.

Geralt glanced at the sign above the display; reasonably priced with a deal on that you could buy three for five pound. He sighed to himself as if he was trying to show some reluctance as he picked up the dandelion design pick and looked over the rest of the picks on the stand. There were some fairly nice ones but none of them jumped out as much as the dandelion one had, so he picked up two more with the same design on and took them back over to Abigail at the counter.

“Cute. Nice choice. These are new in; first time we’ve worked with this artist. He’ll be pleased. Do you play?” She tried to make small talk as she rang up the purchase on the register.

“No.”

Luckily she could tell Geralt had not meant to be rude with his bluntness and chuckled off the awkwardness. “Do you want these gift wrapped?”

She had only offered as a joke, but for a brief moment Geralt actually considered it. Did he mean for it to be a gift? No, Jaskier would think too much of it if Geralt gave them to him all wrapped up like it was something special. Of course, Geralt did not allow himself to think about the fact that he was buying something that could be considered a personal gift for someone that he had just met and barely tolerated. This was purely just a ‘ _Here, you needed this. It’s nothing_.’

He held up the hand that was holding the bag to dismiss the offer and with his other hand, retrieved his card from his pocket to tap it on the reader. And though Geralt did not want it gift wrapped, Abigail still put them in a small, separate bag for him.

“Have a lovely day,” she smiled as she watched him leave her shop after he muttered something that could possibly have been ‘ _Thanks, you too_ ’.

Geralt stopped for a moment outside of the shop to send the picture to Yennefer to assure her the job was done.

16:47:37 [Image Attached] This is the last favour you can claim for the year. -G

As soon as he hit send on the message, a notification popped up on his screen.

16:47:37 Geralttttttttttttt -J

Followed by another.

16:47:39 I’m boreddddddd -J

And another.

16:47:44 Are you nearly done yet? -J

Christ, why did he have to send his messages separately? Oh yeah, to triple the annoyance.

16:47:54 Why? Run out of clothes to try on and nudes to send to unsuspecting eyes? -G

16:47:59 It was not a bloody nude! -J

16:48:03 …It was a half nude. -J

16:48:08 So is that a ‘Yeah, I’m done.’? -J

16:48:19 Yeah, I’m done. -G

16:48:28 Hell yeah, finally! Shall I meet you by the car? -J

Geralt has typed out another ‘ _Yeah_ ’ to send but quickly deleted it when he remembered he still had one more stop.

16:48:45 You could. Or you could meet me in the supermarket. I’m on my way there at the moment. I need to pick up some food. -G

16:48:52 Oooh food! I’ll see you in a bit. Don’t go in without me. -J

Geralt could have sent another message asking how on Earth Jaskier could possibly be hungry after eating that much popcorn and sweet stuff but he figured rather than having to read through another stream of replies, he should probably focus on looking where he was going.

“Ah! There you are. I was just about to text you,” Jaskier beamed after having pushed himself off of the wall by the entrance of the supermarket to meet the man halfway.

“Why am I not surprised,” voice no more than a mutter as he walked past Jaskier and in to the supermarket. It was horrifically bright and busy, filled with people trying to grab something to eat on their way home. Something smelt quite nice though.

Jaskier quickly turned on his heels to follow after Geralt and shoved his phone back in to his pocket. He noted the fact that Geralt was now carrying bags, so he must have got whatever it was he was after. Geralt did not exactly seem like a shopping spree type. “So you got your drugs then?” he asked rather loudly as he fell in to step with the other.

A quick side eye from Geralt followed by a blunt “Yes.”

“You’ll be glad to know I bought the shirt that you picked out,” he swung the bag back and forth to show it off, narrowly avoiding hitting a toddler in the face. He shot a charming apologetic smile to the child’s mother.

“Thrilled. Now you’ll have something to cover up with.”

The tips of Jaskier’s ears flushed pink and he stumbled over his words until he managed to compose himself enough to clear his throat. “I was _going_ to say you have good taste. Though now I do not think you deserve the compliment. Besides, you _clearly_ do not express the same tastes in your own wardrobe.”

Geralt suppressed a small smirk at having got to the man. One more dig. “It was the best of a bad bunch.” He watched as Jaskier spluttered again, clearly highly offended and did not hold back his smirk this time. “Right. Don’t get over-excited- pick out something to have for breakfast and a couple of things for the car. I’m fed up with you whining that you’re hungry every half hour. Can’t keep pulling in to service stations. Be quick about it otherwise it’s going to be hell trying to leave the carpark.”

Jaskier tried to hide his obvious excitement at the idea, easily pleased with a food shop, but his eyes shone. “I mean we could always go grab something to eat and then shop around here if it’s the traffic you’re worried abo-“ his words trailed off as his proposal was met with a glare, “Okay, yep, fine. Quick it is.”

Drinks first.

Geralt picked up a couple of bottles of water as Jaskier had managed to drink his way through the emergency bottles he kept in the back of Roach.

Jaskier chose some bright, ‘tropical’ flavoured fizzy drink with a red nutrition level, so you just know it would taste good and bad in equal measures.

“You may as well choose an energy drink with the amount of sugar in that.”

“Oh god no, they taste like piss.”

“And you would know that how, exactly?”

Jaskier merely poked out his tongue, holding it for a few seconds before frowning at Geralt. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Geralt’s stare was sort of unnerving.

“Your tongue is blue.”

“I…” Jaskier quickly whipped out his phone and opened up the camera application to use it as a mirror. “Oh shit yeah. Slushy. Hah. Does it match my eyes?” He poked his tongue out again.

Ah. That was why he recognised the colour.Geralt walked off.

Breakfast next.

Geralt picked up a bag of apples. His favourite fruit. A couple of those would keep him full for a fair while. A healthy breakfast.

“You know, there’s an awful lot of sugar in fruit…” Jaskier hummed as he looked over the array of bananas on display, trying to find the perfect one to pick.

“It’s not processed sugar. It’s good sugar.”

“All sugar is good sugar, sugar,” he winked as he finally picked one out. Geralt was surprised he did not pick up one of the peaches. “Come on, I’ll show you what makes a good breakfast.”

A good breakfast came from the bakery section, apparently.

Jaskier inhaled deeply, taking in the rich scent of freshly baked bread and cakes and other delicious treats. Geralt would hand it to him, it did smell good at least.

“Ah, good, they have my favourite,” Jaskier beamed as he dropped a chocolate filled croissant covered in chocolate sprinkles in to a paper bag. “Go on. Try something. Wait no! Let me pick…”

After several ‘ums’ and ‘ahs’ and Geralt growing more and more impatient by the second, Jaskier picked up a pain au chocolat and put it in to the bag with his croissant.

Geralt’s nose scrunched. Chocolate for breakfast? “How is that any different to yours?”

“You seem like a dark chocolate kind of person. Plus there’s less chocolate in it than mine because I just _knew_ you would throw a hissy fit over it. Just try it. You’ll thank me tomorrow morning.”

And then snacks.

Luckily Jaskier had grabbed a basket, because the man looked about five seconds away from dropping his haul on the floor and Geralt’s own hands had been too full to help, having grabbed a box of cereal bars to keep in the car in case he got hungry. Sensible.

Jaskier had left the basket on the floor at the end of an aisle, intending to come back to it when he had picked out more food, but Geralt picked it up and followed along behind him. It was better than waiting for the inevitable whines about how heavy it was.

“Every good road trip needs a decent supply of crisps,” Jaskier mused as he walked down the aisle.

“RIght, fine. Pick some out.”

Geralt had nodded to the shelf urging him to hurry his decision, so Jaskier closed his eyes and waved his hand as he walked to pick out a random bag. Which worked out well for the both of them because he ended up picking out a packet of vegetable crisps.

“Bet you’re happy. Ooh, look!” Jaskier pointed further down the shelf Pringles-“

“We only have one more day of driving, you don’t need to buy a load of food now. Save it for when you’re home.”

With a dramatic sigh, Jaskier gave the crisps a last longing gaze before moving on to the next aisle, Geralt in tow. “I used to have Pringles all the time as a kid. The fun does not stop once you’ve eaten them all. I used to use the tubes as telescopes and trumpets and- Oh, marshmallows! I’ve always wondered how many I would be able to fit in to my mouth if I tried.”

“Two bags.”

“I’ll shove two bags somewhere else in you if you don’t leave the sass to me, thank you,” he threatened Geralt, narrowing his eyes as he tossed a bag of them in to the basket.

“Can only fit one, rod’s already up there.”

“Lucky Rodney.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and took the lead down the frozen aisle to make his way towards the self checkout. Last thing he needed was for Jaskier to distract whoever would have scanned their shopping.

He had already put the basket on the shelf and picked up a paper bag to put the shopping in before he noticed that Jaskier was not with him. He turned back with a frown to find Jaskier leaning in to a freezer.

“We should get a pizza!” Jaskier waved a box in the air.

“No,” Geralt said bluntly as he turned back to the checkout to start scanning the shopping.

“Oh they even have my favourite- Hawaiian !”

“Jaskier.”

“Come on, don’t tell me you’re one of those people that don’t believe pineapple belongs on pizza?”

“Jaskier.”

“It’s delicious! You get little bursts of sweetness every few bites. What’s not to love!”

“Jaskier.”

“And it’s fruit too, so you can’t even complain that it’s _bad_ sugar, Mr Dentist’s Dream.”

“ _Jaskier_!”

“ _What_?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I do not exactly have an oven in my car.” He watched as Jaskier’s heart sank.

“Oh… right. Yeah,” the sad tone to his voice and the fact that his head was hung low as he moped back over the the checkout till and helped to put the last few things in to the bags.

Geralt rolled his eyes as Jaskier’s mood did not change back to his usual happy self and handed over the full bags to him along with the keys to Roach. “Go back to the car and put these in. I’ll be out in a bit.”

Jaskier took the items given to him, but not without a twist of confusion on his face. “You trust me not to go for a joyride?” He knew better than to directly ask Geralt why he was not joining him on the walk back to the car, so he thought a mild threat might help to prompt something out of the other.

“Trust is not a word I would use. Threat is. As in, you know what the threat will be if you do.”

“Right, roger that. No joyride. Scouts honour,” he held up four fingers.

“I…that’s not…” Geralt sighed and started to walk off, “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Missing you already,” Jaskier muttered under his breath and rolled his eyes, making his own move too. Now he just had to remember where Geralt parked…

_God, he is annoying._

Geralt walked to the back of the shop.

_How can one person be that annoying?_

He waited at the counter.

_The relentless flirting and talking and questions._

He ordered.

_I should never have agreed to this. I should have said there is no way in hell I am driving over four hundred miles with a complete stranger._

He waited.

_He clearly just thought oh hey look, here is an idiot that will be dumb enough to let me annoy him for a while._

He paid.

_Because that is what I am, am I not? An idiot for agreeing to this? For starting to-_

He picked up the box.

_I do not know why I bother._

He walked back to the car.

“You took your time,” Jaskier complained, not even bothering to look up from his phone when Geralt opened the driver’s door, too busy writing a funny caption for his latest selfie. Fully clothed selfie.

“Well if that’s the thanks I get,” Geralt just about managed to get the words out before the smell hit Jaskier and his head shot up.

“Is that… You got me a _pizza_?!” Jaskier’s face lit up like a child who had just been given a puppy.

“You think I could deal with your sad arse for the next couple of hours?” He slipped in to his seat and handed over the box for Jaskier to hold.

“I was not sad I was just disappointed-“

“Same thing.”

Safe in the fact that Geralt was too distracted buckling up and starting the car, Jaskier smiled fondly at the man. It was a very sweet gesture. Even if it was just to get Jaskier to stop pouting. Very effective, sweet gesture.

“You didn’t have to get me a- You got me a _Hawaiian_ pizza?!” Jaskier exclaimed as he opened the box to reveal the abomination.

“An abomination, but at least you told me, and the whole shop, that you would eat it. Didn’t want to buy it just for it to be wasted.”

“It’s not an abomination, it is the best choice of toppings for a pizza- hey!” Jaskier had been about to grab his first slice when Geralt chose the piece he had wanted. “You just called it an abomination!”

Geralt peeled off a piece of pineapple from his slice and threw it at Jaskier’s face. “It is,” he confirmed, before taking a bite, clean of pineapple.

Jaskier swatted the pineapple off of his face and it fell back in to the box, on to another slice. He stared at a happily eating away Geralt, his own mouth agape. “That- That could have _stained_ my shirt!”

“Payback for the popcorn. And please keep your shirt on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i bloody hate writing out timestamps but i love what they add so i'll gosh damn write 'em
> 
> i miss the fact that i'm never gonna be comfortable enough to get pick and mix again and i love the shape of water yes i am just making jaskier me lbh
> 
> let me know your thoughts on the film in the comments!
> 
> mega sorry to like the 2 people who actually wait for the updates to this, a lot of emergency stuff came up recently so writing kind of had to take a backseat and i felt very guilty for it but at least this chapter is extra long! i'll pretend i meant to do that to make up for the fact that it's late. also i'm back at my job now so updates might take a little longer but i'm going to try and aim for tuesdays around 5ish GMT but possibly fortnightly
> 
> follow zeebeebrown on tumblr for updates i'm going to try and post more on there too


	5. Don't freeze to death. -Y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Go on, close your eyes until we get there.”
> 
> “What so you can drive me to a quiet patch where you’ve got a bunch of tarp laid down all ready to murder me and clean up quick?”
> 
> “Something like that.”

Four lanes turned in to three, then two, then one and fast cars turned in to speed limits and cyclists and the occasional dog walker as the harsh motorway turned in to a quiet country lane.

The pizza box, it’s contents lightened surprisingly quickly between the two men, had been thrown away at a service station past and Jaskier’s guitar, which could have filled the space the box had left, remained nestled in it’s case on the backseat. There had been no need for it at this stage of their journey, the conversation had remained quite pleasant, though still rather one sided, the additional comments thrown in from Geralt a welcomed bonus. But as rubber continued to roll over tarmac and the sun continued to grow tired, so too did the pair and the talking fizzled out in to a pleasant quiet. Of course, Jaskier had not been given a reason to differ from his agreeable mood, quite the opposite in fact, so quiet did not mean utter silence.

Leaning up against the side of the door, he watched as the tall grasses that lined the side of the road parted like a great wave as Roach drove past and flung back as if to whip the tyres for disturbing them. Leaves fell from the trees of the woods they were driving along side, the sun peeking through the trunks occasionally, giving an almost strobe light effect.

Jaskier sung quietly.

_“My head was warm_

_my skin was soaked_

_I called your name 'til the fever broke_

_When I awoke_

_the moon still hung_

_the night so black that the darkness hummed_

_I raised myself_

_my legs were weak_

_I prayed my mind be good to me_

_An awful noise_

_filled the air_

_I heard a scream in the woods somewhere_

_A woman's voice!_

_I quickly ran_

_into the trees with empty hands._

_A fox it was_

_he shook, afraid_

_I spoke no words, no sound he made._ ”

His voice was almost haunting, Geralt thought, as he sung the ominous lyrics. It was different, hearing the man sing without a guitar accompanying his voice. It allowed Jaskier’s voice to be the main event. Low, quiet, gravely. Tired, almost strained, yet still somewhat… commanding. It commanded Geralt’s attention at least. So much so that he nearly missed a turning.

There was Geralt thinking high praises of the man, and then there was Jaskier thinking about how he could quite happily spend the remainder of his days singing his favourite artist’s songs (such was way the music took his mind) while running through the woods in a flowing, dirty white gown, until he tumbled to the ground, looking up at the stars with damp seeping through the fabric on his back, chilling his bones and the letting hypothermia claim his final breaths so he could return to the earth.

Later in life, perhaps, he had an agent to impress first.

“Geralt?” Jaskier addressed the man for what was probably the first time in about fifty minutes.

All Geralt could manage after being snapped out of his hypnotised state was a quiet grunt, eyes fixed to the road ahead.

 _That will do._ “You’re looking kind of tired-“

“Rude.”

“-Did you book anywhere to sleep tonight? We nearly would not have got two rooms at that place last night if I had not worked my wonderful charms on the front desk,” which reminded him, he had to reply to the receptionist’s text. “I fear I may be too tired to work my wonders tonight,” he sighed, placing the back of his hand on his forehead and looking off in to the distance dramatically.

“That’s probably because you’re having a sugar crash and I won’t say I told you so…”

Jaskier gave him a half-arsed glare. “But…?”

It was met by a quick flash of a smirk before the smirker had to keep his eyes trained back on the road. “I told you so.”

“So mature,” Jaskier muttered under his breath as he fished out his phone from his pocket to check his notifications for the first time since they had left the shopping centre. The screen was filled with a stream of Instagram likes and comments, but he ignored these in favour of replying to a few of the messages he had received, including the receptionist. He apologised for the slow reply, blaming it on a lack of signal. A lie, but when the message then would not send, he could blame that on nothing but karma. Karma and being in the middle of nowhere. He put his phone away and turned his attention back to Geralt who had remained silent left to his own devices.

“So?”

Another grunt. Jaskier rolled his eyes at it this time.

“A hotel?”

No response.

“Bed and breakfast?”

Still nothing.

“A…” he shuddered, “Hostel?”

Silence.

Jaskier sighed and turned back to stare out of the window. “Geralt, I swear, if we end up having to sleep out in the woods because you didn’t bother to book anywhere until the last minute… I am not built for outdoor life. I have a vendetta against bugs. Like vampires, they adore my blood. I would be covered in bites come morning. I wouldn’t be surprised if I develop some sort of allergy to them. I dated a guy once and he woke up with a mosquito bite on his knee and he lost all feeling in his leg! I need my legs, Geralt. I have surprisingly strong- wait, what was that?”

“Hmm?” Geralt hummed innocently after pulling in to a turning.

Jaskier spun around as quickly as he could in his seat, restricted slightly by his seatbelt, but quick enough to see a “Thank You For Visiting Brokilon Forest Camping Grounds” sign disappearing in to the distance. “Oh for fuck-“

“Sorry, princess.”

Luckily Geralt was too busy sticking to the dirt road to notice the tips of Jaskier’s ears flush. He crossed his arms in a huff. So, this would be how he died. Either murdered by a stranger (well, he supposed he could at least call Geralt an acquaintance now) in the middle of the woods with no-one around for miles to hear his, admittedly in tune, screams or he would be eaten alive by bugs.

“Hey, accommodation isn’t just down to me. If this or a hostel were really your worst case scenarios, you could have shown some initiative and gone ‘Hey Geralt, bud, not a big fan of slumming it, so I’ve booked a couple of rooms nearby, here’s the postcode. I’ve paid for your room seeing as you paid for the food at the cinema, the shopping and a shitty pizza.’”

Jaskier moved his mouth at the same time as Geralt in a comical manner, making fun of the way he talked until, of course, Geralt made fun of the way Jaskier talked. “Screw you! I do not sound like that!”

Geralt snorted and snuck a glance at an indignant looking Jaskier. “Before you I was not going to bother with rooms. I was just going to drive and camp in few grounds I know on the way. But then Margaret gave me a room, and you whined to the receptionist last night and I felt bad for her so paid for a room there too.”

Jaskier shuffled a little awkwardly in his seat. Now he felt even worse. Not only had be made Geralt pay for things for him today, he had made him pay for a room yesterday too. Well, if anything needed to be paid for in London, Jaskier would be on it. He would snap Geralt's card in half if that was what it took.

“That’s why the boot’s full. Camping gear.”

“Not a body?” Jaskier managed a small smile which was met with another.

“Not a body,” Geralt reassured him.

“Still,” Jaskier let out a dramatic sigh after a few moments, “I can’t believe you’ve known me for what? About forty-eight hours and you’re getting me to go camping with you. I dated a girl off and on for _three years_ and I still did not agree to go camping with her, no matter how much she asked.”

“You got me to go to the cinema so I guess this’ll make us even.” Geralt noted that Jaskier looked quite proud of himself for that. “Besides, I know this forest. You might not be too mad once you see the spot I have in mind,” Geralt huffed a small laugh and gave Jaskier a look that the man could not quite figure out. “Go on, close your eyes until we get there.”

“What so you can drive me to a quiet patch where you’ve got a bunch of tarp laid down all ready to murder me and clean up quick?”

“Something like that.”

A few blinks, debating the thought, and then Jaskier closed his eyes and settled back in to his seat with a hum.

Geralt had discovered this forest on his last trip down to London and it did not take him to long to find the spot he was after. He had gone wandering last time, trying to clear his head and had all but stumbled on to the spot after tripping on a root suddenly made him a bit more aware of his surroundings.

“You’ve slowed down, are we there yet? Can I open my eyes? Are you holding a knife?”

Safe with Jaskier’s eyes shut, Geralt smiled slightly, not answering for a few moments as he finished parking the car. “Okay, you can open them now. Watch out for the knife.”

Anticipating the sight, Jaskier had a huge grin plastered to his face, but the second he opened his eyes, he was disappointed and the grin faltered. “Oh… yeah… wow. That’s really pretty. A bunch of trees.”

With a knowing smirk, Geralt tapped the rearview mirror.

And Jaskier’s grin was back, but slightly softer. “Holy shit…” He scrambled out of the car immediately and Geralt did not take to long to follow. “Christ,” Jaskier breathed.

Surrounded by trees on three sides of them, the fourth laid way to a clearing that opened up to a lake with a small wooden dock that seemed insignificant on the body of water. The lake itself was framed by a thick layer of dark trees stretching as far as the eye could see and the sun hung low in the sky, casting the sort of light you just knew was about to give you the most glorious of sunsets. Around them, various small birds were making their final calls of the day and a light breeze rustled the leaves at the tops of the trees.

“It’s beautiful.” On hearing Geralt’s hum in response, Jaskier turned around just in time to catch a flustered Geralt who had until that point, been staring at him, taking pride in the other’s response. Luckily Jaskier was still too overcome with the thrill of the setting to notice. “If I’d have known it would look like this, I might have agreed to go camping long ago.” He shivered slightly and rubbed his arm to rid himself of the chill.

“Mm,” Geralt hummed, noting it, “You get more of a cool breeze by the lake-“

“Oh I have _just_ the outfit!” Jaskier exclaimed and threw open the door to Roach that was closest to his bag.

Geralt just shook his head and took a few steps closer to the lake to crouch down next to a pile of debris that had once been a fire perhaps a week ago at least. He kept his back turned to the other, giving him some privacy as Geralt would not put it past him to go through an entire wardrobe change purely because they were in another setting.

“Tada!” Jaskier announced the completion of his outfit, which, when Geralt turned round to see, had consisted of only changing his outer shirt from a thin floral one, to a thick, oversized flannel one. Which of course, still had some hints of bright colours in it. At this point, Geralt was convinced Jaskier’s intention was to always dress as a human beacon.

“Tada indeed,” Geralt gave a sarcastic wolf whistle and Jaskier rolled his eyes, but twirled on the spot regardless. “C’mon, help me gather some branches to make a fire.”

“Woah, so we’re really roughing it out here? Making a proper fire? Like proper adventurers!” He placed his hands on his hips triumphantly, though quickly abandoned the pose once he realised that Geralt was no longer paying attention to him and had already begun to focus on collecting wood for the fire. So Jaskier did too.

Within half an hour they had both (admittedly, mainly Geralt) gathered a fairly substantial pile of dried wood. Jaskier sat perched on one of the two fallen tree trunks that Geralt had dragged closer to the makeshift fire pit to use as seating, watching as Geralt now tried to start the fire up.

“I still think it’s kind of cheating,” Jaskier hummed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his lap, and continuing when Geralt did not acknowledge him. “Aren’t you supposed to… I don’t know… chip two stones together? Do that little… rubby stick thingy?”

Geralt cocked a brow, finally peering up at the man. “Rubby… stick… thingy?”

Jaskier shrugged. “You know what I mean.”

“Well by all means,” with a smirk, Geralt tossed over two sticks from their spare wood pile and they landed by Jaskier’s feet, “Feel free to try, entertain me at least, but I’ll stick to cheating.” Geralt lit some dry grass with a lighter and placed it in to the middle of the pile. It did not take long for more and more to catch alight. “Here,” he tossed the lighter over to Jaskier too with an even bigger smirk, “In case you feel like cheating.”

Jaskier caught the lighter with surprising ease, sticking his tongue out at Geralt as he did so. He turned the lighter over and notice an engraving on the side. “To Geralt. Don’t die.”

“Mm, it was a gift back when I used to smoke.”

“You used to _smoke_?” Jaskier exclaimed and threw the lighter back to Geralt as if it would infect his hands. “Do you have any idea how bad it is for you?” He looked thoroughly disgusted.

“Hence the ‘Don’t die’. I quit shortly after, don’t worry.”

“Good,” he huffed, “Otherwise I would have said you are not coming anywhere near me. Can’t have my lungs getting polluted. They’re valuable goods. My livelihood. The world would be deprived without them.”

Geralt shrugged, rolling the lighter over his fingers with ease. The attraction Jaskier felt watching it was slightly overruled by the jealousy he felt for not being able to do it. “You’d just sound a bit more husky when you sing. Some musicians have made a name for themselves on that.”

“Yes well, we can’t all pull off a husky voice like you.”

The compliment was ignored as Geralt was too distracted and when Jaskier realised this, he frowned, following Geralt’s line of sight. The frown quickly melted. “Sun’s setting,” Geralt acknowledged the first streak of colour across the sky.

For a solid half an hour, they each sat on their respective tree trunks, not exchanging a single word, but watching the sun set in the sky. The fire crackled away between them and the colours the sun scattered across the sky and reflected in the water below like freshly dipped paint.

Jaskier watched as Geralt walked to the end of the dock, picking up a fist sized rock and threw it in to the lake. It disturbed the otherwise still waters and the waves and ripples the encircled the stone’s disruption let the colours of the sunset dance on them. At that moment, Jaskier rose from his seat too, and walked down to the edge of the water where the dock began and lined up the perfect shot of the sunset, with Geralt in the centre of the frame. He snapped the picture moments before Geralt turned round to walk back.

“That was a poor excuse for stone skipping,” Jaskier chuckled and picked up a stone for himself. “The trick is to get nice and low and-“ Jaskier misjudged the aim of the flick of his wrist and narrowly avoided hitting Geralt’s leg.

“Christ, let me get out of the way first. I don’t want a black eye.”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t anywhere near your eye and like it wouldn’t just bounce right off you anyway,” Jaskier scoffed, remembering the coaster as if it were an equal comparison and bent down to pick up another stone. “Besides, you’d look kind of tough with a black eye.”

“I don’t,” Geralt muttered, joining Jaskier by his side and copying him, reaching down for another stone.

Rather than attempting to delve in to information that he knew he would not get, Jaskier threw his stone, with better aim this time. It skimmed once before disappearing in to the depths. “See? All in the wrist.”

“You said it was about getting low,” Geralt teased and threw his stone. It skimmed three times.

“Alright, show off. It. Is. _On_.”

The back and forth continued for a while, both of them trying to beat the other’s score until Geralt realised Jaskier was no longer throwing his stones and instead, with a very determined expression, had gathered an armful of them and was making his way back to sit down by the fire.

After maybe the twenty-first thrown away stone (it skipped _six_ times!) Jaskier had picked up his twenty-second stone and noticed it was fairly triangular in shape and it had given him an idea.

Geralt watched, face pinched in to a confused frown, as Jaskier ran his hand over the stones by his feet, picking the occasional one up, turning it over to examine it closer and then tossing it back down to the pile of supposed rejects.

“I’m such an idiot-“

“Can’t argue there,” Geralt muttered under his breath as he returned to the fire to try and figure out what Jaskier was doing.

“-I should have packed more picks. It’s always good to show off your skills with and without a pick. Can change the whole sound of a song, you know? That was my lucky pick too. Used it to play my first ever proper gig. Only a small one, but a booked gig nonetheless. Quite successful. Got asked to do an encore. It was one of the best nights of my life. Rode on that high for _weeks._ Got many a phone number too, hah.” He sighed, tossing another stone on the pile. “Guess I can’t call it lucky now since it broke when I needed it most. Cursed. It’s a cursed pick! I’m trying to find a stone that even vaguely resembles one to see if that will do.”

While Jaskier was rambling on, he did not even notice Geralt walking back over to Roach to open up one of the passenger doors to find something. In truth, he only noticed Geralt had moved at all when a small bag was being thrust in to his face.

“I…” Jaskier hesitated to take it, recognising it as one of the bags Geralt had been carrying when they met up at the supermarket. “Is this the drugs you had to pick up? If so I want no part in it.” He turned his head away dramatically and pushed the bag away. “I am a good boy.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, already regretting his decision even more than he had done and dropped the bag on to Jaskier’s lap before going to sit back down on the other log.

While Geralt’s back was turned, Jaskier shot him a sideways glance to check that the man was not watching him and quickly opened the bag to look inside. He froze.

“Geralt…” his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, almost choked.

“Don’t,” Geralt warned, poking the fire with a long branch. “You needed them. I got them. Didn’t want to deal with your whining.”

 _Sounds familiar_ , Jaskier thought; Geralt must really hate his whining. The smile only grew as he picked up one of the plectrums from the bag. A _dandelion_ seed? How incredibly thoughtful. How incredibly sweet. Even if Geralt felt like he _had_ to buy the picks, he could have chosen any random one off of a shelf. But he picked something personal, with meaning, and he picked three. Jaskier could not help but let out a small laugh at the fact that he had fought with himself over buying Geralt a random shirt that he thought might look good and there was Geralt, the man who had seemingly sworn off of emotions, giving him these. They were perfect.

Jaskier’s eyes glistened with joy, so much so that Geralt noticed and seemed to read his mind quite clearly.

“There was a deal on. Don’t think too much in to it.”

“I shall think about it-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Every night for a month.”

 _Every night for the rest of my life_. Jaskier smiled down at his hands.

“Geralt, my dear fellow, I’m beginning to think you like me- eep!” Jaskier, who had started off so smug in his words, flinched back as a hot ember ended stick was jabbed towards him, ash flying with the movement.

“Speak such shit again and they’ll be on the fire. Your guitar would make for some good kindling.”

Jaskier let out a mock gasp as he stood up, “Well then I’d better protect her with my life then, hadn’t I?”

“‘Her’?” Geralt quirked a disbelieving brow, tossing a different stick on the fire.

“That sounded awfully judgemental, didn’t it, _Roach_?” he patted the car door as he took out his guitar, case and all.

“Touché,” Geralt’s response was muffled with a small laugh.

“Her name’s Toruviel.”

“Unusual name.”

“Yes, it is unusual, isn’t it _Roach_?” he asked the question in an accusatory shout and Geralt held up his hands in surrender as Jaskier returned. “Yeah,” he pointed the bottom of the guitar at Geralt as he approached, “That’s what I thought, buddy.”

Jaskier smirked to himself as he sat down on the fallen tree and began to unzip the case. It was only right that he tested out the new picks, was it not? For what if he went to use them tomorrow and made a complete fool out of himself? His guitar fit snugly against his chest, resting on his knee, as if slotting in to place like a missing puzzle piece. The man always felt more complete with an instrument in his hands.

As Geralt tended to the fire and watched birds skim across the lake catching the nights insects hovering there, Jaskier experimented with his gift, strumming some chords and and plucking individual notes, just enjoying himself. He played for a fair while, adding quite a nice ambiance to the setting and eventually turned to quietly singing. More to himself than performing.

_“Without you, I’m stronger, I’m no longer_

_filled with wonder._

_How wrong you were._

_For you, my lungs were pulled asunder._

_Saw that wild blue yonder and said: ‘such endless blue’.”_

_Your eyes are an endless blue._ Geralt internally chastised himself for the thought, dragging his eyes away from Jaskier’s to watch as the man scrawled something down in the notebook he had put on the log next to him. He was muttering to himself as he wrote.

“What are you writing?” he had waited to ask until the man had finished and put down his pen to ask, just in case he interrupted a thought.

“Hmm?” Jaskier looked up from readjusting the guitar on his lap and lining up his fingers on the frets and smiled when he caught Geralt’s questioning gaze. “Oh, I was just writing down the lyrics before I forget them.”

“Wait,” Geralt’s face scrunched in confusion, “You wrote that?”

“Uh… depends,” he replied, plucking a few random notes.

“On?”

Jaskier rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled quietly. “If you think it’s shit.”

“Hard to decide…” Geralt leant forward slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a hint of a smirk, “Haven’t really heard enough of it to form an opinion.”

Immediately Jaskier’s face lit up. That was not the insult he came to expect and coming from Geralt, it actually sounded incredibly encouraging. “I uh, well…” Jaskier was flustered slightly, but quickly refocused himself, lining up his fingers on the guitar. “It’s sort of meant to be played a lot louder than that, but I was just sort of thinking out loud, trying to iron out some more of the lyrics. With some songs I think of the lyrics first and then I find the tune after but with this one I had the tune before anything. It’s a work in progress. I think I sort of know how I want it to end though.”

When Geralt did not say anything but continued to stare back at him, Jaskier took that as a definite invitation to continue the song.

He cleared his throat.

“ _Every brick you hurled, I’ll use to build this world,_

_this world, this world, this world._

_Let’s hide under the covers._

_We don’t know what’s out there._

_Could be all our demons, darling._

_Hold me, lover, like you used to,_

_so tight I’d bruise you._

_I’d bruise you, I’d bruise you.”_

_So hide under the covers._

_We don’t know what’s out there._

_Could be ghosts or monsters or a robot vampire, I dunno._

_Hold me, lover, like you used to_

_so tight I’d bruise you,_

_I’d bruise you,_

_I’d bruise you,_

_I’d bruise you,_

_I’d bruise you.”_

As soon as Jaskier began to belt the lyrics, goosebumps pricked over Geralt’s skin. It felt as if Jaskier’s voice had washed over him in a slow wave, leaving tingles in it’s wake, creeping up his neck and over his scalp. Geralt had never felt anything like it. Nor had he seen anything like it. Jaskier had closed his eyes when he started to play, letting himself get lost in the song, passion rising to the surface as if he had been taken over by some old spirit of the forest. The flicking of the campfire’s flames cast shadows and highlights over his face, helping to contrast his features and Geralt thought he sounded and even looked near ethereal.

Jaskier let his chest rise and fall heavily for a few moments before he peeled open one of his eyes to look over sheepishly at Geralt, who did not even realise he had been smiling the whole time. “So… shit?”

Geralt could not help but snort out a laugh. As if Jaskier was trying to be modest now, when the man had nothing but praises to say about his own singing the night that they met. “You should sing that tomorrow.”

It was Jaskier’s turn to snort. Though his was accompanied with embarrassingly flushed cheeks which he would blame on the fact that he had just sung and the heat from the fire. No other possible reason. “Hah, I don’t think so, somehow,” he scribbled a few things down in his notebook, to distract himself from being unable to bring himself to look back up at Geralt who was surprisingly still smiling at him. He did find it annoying that he had sought out to make Geralt smile when they first met and now that it was actually happening, he felt too embarrassed to appreciate it, let alone tease the man for it. “Like I said it’s a work in progress, so it’s still in the rough phases. Besides I uh…” he traced over what he had already written, “I don’t want to play my songs.”

When Jaskier did finally manage to look up, it was because Geralt had not bothered to say anything. And that was because Geralt was giving him a look that seemed to be half a frown and half a glare. “So what? You’re going to play other people’s songs?”

The inside of Jaskier’s cheek suffered as he chewed on it, trying to think of some sort of articulate response that did not make he sound pathetic. “I made a name for myself combining other people’s songs. Got a couple of semi-successful albums out of it…” the graphite of his pencil snapped off. He sighed. “People have had their careers ruined by sharing their original stuff. Bombed and become laughing stocks and I… I don’t really know what I’d do if I felt like I’d lost what I’ve fought so hard to get to.”

An awkward silence.

“Jaskier.” Geralt waited until the man looked up at him again, even if he was still chewing on the side of his mouth. “What do I like?”

 _Being left alone. Roach. Black coffee. Wine gums. Pizza without pineapple. Camping, I think?_ “I… I don’t know?”

“Exactly.”

Jaskier frowned, not understanding, but still trying to distract himself from the awkwardness of the situation by shoving the broken pencil and his notebook back in to the guitar case. He would have no further use for them tonight.

“I don’t like much,” Geralt continued and Jaskier scoffed seemingly in agreement, “But I liked that.”

“Okay!” Jaskier exclaimed and slapped his hands down either side of him on the trunk of the tree, his face now probably as hot as the fire before them, “Who wants marshmallows? I do! I think we should crack open the marshmallows don’t you? I’ll just go and uh, go get them and then we can yep, toast the mallowmarsh- marshmallows. Marshmallows.”

Geralt did not pay any attention to Jaskier’s face, oblivious to the reaction he had caused. As soon as he had said his piece, his phone had vibrated in his pocket and he let himself be distracted by the message. He frowned at the light of the screen, not bothering to reply when he finished reading. He caught the end of Jaskier’s ramble about marshmallows and looked up from his phone in time to see the man fumbling with putting the guitar back in it’s case.

“It’s alright. Sit.” Geralt stood and held out his hand to halt Jaskier’s movements. Successfully. Jaskier plopped back down on the trunk with a quiet thud. “I’ll get them. I need to grab something anyway.”

Jaskier nodded, agreeing to stay put. He sat there, twiddling one of his new picks between his fingers and listening to the crackling of the fire. When he heard footsteps approach, he put the pick back safely in to the bag with the others and put them in to the guitar case just as the bag of marshmallows was tossed at his feet.

“Hey!” Jaskier picked them up off of the floor and looked up at Geralt to tell him off, “Those could have landed in the f- oh…”

“Well you are gonna burn them any way, I’m assuming.”

“You wear… glasses,” Jaskier just about managed with his suddenly dry mouth.

The thin, dark metal framed the man’s eyes as if any more attention needed to be drawn to them. The fire was already making them look even more molten. It was not fair. What gave him the right to get any more attractive. Jaskier could not help but stare.

Geralt did not notice, he was back on his phone, frowning less now that he was wearing his glasses. “At night mostly. Or if I’m staring at a screen for a long time. They have a filter for blue light.”

“They… look good.” _Very good_. Jaskier had not known previously, but apparently he had a thing for glasses. He covered up clearing his throat by opening up the bag of marshmallows. “You ever toasted marshmallows before?”

“Hmm?” Geralt looked up briefly from tapping away away at his screen. “Can’t say I have.”

“Well that’s about to change tonight. Toss me a couple of long sticks.”

Geralt, surprisingly, did as he was told without any complaint of how much processed sugar would be in each mouthful.

“Obviously I’ve never been camping before,” Jaskier did not care that he might be talking to himself, he just wished to fill the silence while he prepared the sticks to distract himself from his thoughts about Geralt, “But I’ve loved marshmallows for as long as I can remember. It was what I imagined eating a cloud to feel like- that was, of course, until I discovered candy floss. But yeah, I used to see all these people in films roasting marshmallows over a fire and making s’mores and oh, did I want to know what that tasted like, so I used to nick a skewer from the kitchen, stick a marshmallow on it and hold it over a tea light until it got all gooey. It was quite divine but looking back on it, probably not the safest thing for an unsupervised kid to do. Not to mention the chemicals I must have ingested with them…”

“Of course you did,” Geralt chuckled quietly as he accepted one of the sticks back from Jaskier. In truth, the reason he had not complained about it was because he was actually sort of curious as to how they tasted too. Films did do a good job of making them look quite nice.

They sat in silence for a while as they held their first marshmallows over the fire. Geralt followed Jaskier’s lead as to when he should remove the stick from the flames, though he had been holding his stick a little closer to the flames, so the marshmallow was a little bit burnt on one of the ends. Still, he tried it as Jaskier tried his and although he did not match Jaskier’s quiet moan of pleasure, Geralt thought it actually tasted surprisingly nice.

“Better than a tea light?”

“ _God_ so much better than a tea light,” Jaskier managed around his mouthful. “Would you like another one?”

Jaskier had offered it to be polite, not exactly expecting for Geralt to hold out his stick, ready for Jaskier to put another one on the end for him. He put two on it this time.

“So what other instruments do you play?” Geralt asked as he held his stick back over the flames.

“I should really write a list out to help me remember. Let’s see…” Jaskier hummed to himself for a few moments, thinking as he added some more marshmallows to his own stick. “Obviously guitar and piano, but you know that already. Harmonica, violin, double bass, oboe… banjo and lute- that was a fun summer project one year… Accordion, melodica and oh, I dabbled a bit with bagpipes when I lived in Scotland for a few months. I can play the xylophone, though I haven’t had access to one in years, but it’s not that difficult to play. I can play the drums a bit… Taught myself the lyre after about the forth run through of The Shape of Water score- ah,” by the time Jaskier had got that far down his list, his marshmallow had started to burn.

“Okay, I regret asking, I get it, you’re talented,” Geralt snorted as Jaskier pulled out his on fire marshmallow, “You can stop.”

They went back and forth for a hour or so, asking small questions to each other. Obviously Jaskier’s answers were still a damn sight longer than anything Geralt offered, but they talked until only a few flames and marshmallows remained.

“Christ, that was far too much sugar,” Geralt mumbled and threw down his stick, defeated, letting his gaze wander over to the lake.

Jaskier tossed down his own stick, deciding that Geralt was probably right. Especially since he had eaten about five more than Geralt. For a moment, he looked to where Geralt was looking before he took the chance to gaze at him. Lords, he would make a wonderful model. Jaskier slipped out his phone from his pocket and knelt down on the ground to get a better angle for a picture, but as he returned to his seat, Geralt turned around with a frown.

“Did you just take a picture of me?”

Jaskier swallowed before blurting out, “Can I post them to my Instagram?”

Geralt gave him a dubious look and held out his hand to get Jaskier to hand over his phone so that he could look at it. “Why would you want to post them anywhere?”

“Because I am quite proud of them?” He stood up and handed over the phone as prompted. “They look pretty damn gorgeous if I do say so myself,” _You look pretty damn gorgeous if I do say so myself_ , “The lighting looks divine.”

Geralt looked at the phone, Jaskier, the phone and then Jaskier again. “Fine, but don’t tag me.”

“I mean for a start, I do not know your profile and to end: _you_ have a profile?” his eyes lit up with curiosity, a thousand questions already buzzing in his head.

“Ask it and I will not let you post them,” he warned, not bothering to look up.

Jaskier weighed up the two options and ultimately decided that he could probably coax some more information out of Geralt later, so he went to sit back over on his makeshift seat to post the pictures. He was silent for a few moments more as he thought to himself, trying to come up with something to say but for the first time since he had started using the app, he could not come up with a caption. He posted them regardless. _Some art does not need to be explained_.

“It’s late,” Geralt commented as he checked the time on his own phone. “There’s a small bucket in the back of Roach. Take it to the lake, fill it up and put out the last of the fire. I’ll sort Roach out.”

“‘Sort Roach out’?” Jaskier questioned, but Geralt had already got up and walked back over to the car.

By the time Jaskier had done as he was told, Geralt had taken the majority of the things out of Roach’s boot. He had laid out a dark tarp (one that could probably be used by a murderer) and began to take out the three back seats and place them on it before tying it up with another tarp over the top. Then he placed his bags in the front seats to keep them out of the way, but still accessible.

As Jaskier tried to tetris in his bags and his guitar on the front seat, he heard a click from the boot, followed by a loud sound that reminded him of a hoover. When he joined Geralt at the back of the car, he saw an inflatable mattress finish rising inside of it. _Oh_.

Geralt must have caught him staring. “It’s not _camping,_ camping, proper camping, I mean. But it’ll keep some of the cold out.”

Jaskier remained quiet and just nodded.

Geralt picked up on it. “Sorry it’s not two mattresses, but I did not exactly expect to be bringing a total stranger with me out here.”

“What? No, no, it’s fine, don’t be silly,” his words broke off to a yawn, “I’m actually just glad I won’t have to lie on the cold, hard ground.”

“Piss me off and you might still have to,” Geralt nudged Jaskier’s shoulder with a smirk before he set up the bedding.

“I’m gonna go and…” Jaskier jabbed his thumb over his shoulder to excuse himself and get ready to sleep.

He took a while to himself; brushing his teeth over the lake with the last of some water in a bottle, relieving himself a little while away from their camp, changing in to some pyjama trousers. All the while trying to psych himself up for the night.

_Why are you not being cool about this, you idiot? It will be fine. You are going to go back there, get in to that… bed and just hunker down and sleep. It will be fine. What are you not grasping about this? It will be fine. He is not making a big thing out of it so why are you? It will be fine. You know you do not snore, you have asked literally every person you have ever slept with. It will be fine. He does not care about this. It. Will. Be. Fine._

When Jaskier eventually made his way back to the car, Geralt was already sitting inside, propped up by a pillow and typing away at his phone.

“You took your time,” Geralt commented, not bothering to look up.

“I.. yep. Not used to uh, peeing in the woods. Stage fright.”

“Lovely. I’m sure the deer enjoyed the show.”

Jaskier chucked his belongings back in to his bag on the front seat and walked back to the boot to climb in to bed.

“You could uh-“

“Ah shit, sorry, I- Sorry-“ As Jaskier tried to crawl on from the bottom, the mattress tilted up and down with each movement, jostling Geralt in the process, until he managed to reach the top and face planted the pillow.

“You could have just come in through the passenger door.”

Jaskier groaned in to the pillow. _I am an idiot._

With a snort of laughter, Geralt took off his glasses and reached over to place them on the front seat along with his phone before he settled down for the night.

Jaskier braved his embarrassment and brought his face up from the pillow so that he could manoeuvre himself to get under the duvet. He kept his back turned to Geralt.

“Uh… goodnight?” his voice sounded awkward and he immediately regretted saying anything. _Blissful sleep take me now and may I never wake to such embarrassment again._

Geralt smiled slightly to himself. “Goodnight Jaskier.”

Jaskier fell asleep first of course, compensating for the second sugar crash of the evening, whereas Geralt remained lying on his back for a solid hour, staring at the ceiling. He did not know why he could not sleep. The sugar consumption, perhaps? Maybe it was because he had not slept next to someone in a long time. No, it was definitely the sugar.

Fuck, he needed to sleep. _This was ridiculous_. _This is nothing_.

He rolled over on to his side and inadvertently pulled the majority of the duvet with him, tucking it under his arm, leaving most of Jaskier uncovered. He froze for a few moments, when he heard a hiss from the man lying next to him. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Jaskier curl up tighter in his sleep, but he could still see his face. Even with the slightest of frowns he now sported thanks to the change in temperature, he still looked like quite a peaceful sleeper. _So do not fuck that up_. Geralt carefully untucked the duvet from himself and placed it back over Jaskier slowly, trying not to disturb him any further. After a few moments, the man seemed to relax again, which obviously meant that Geralt now could. He settled back down facing his side of the car, closed his eyes and finally drifted off to sleep.

How many hours had it been, Geralt wondered, when the sound of a nearby vixen screeching for her kits broke the near silence they had been sleeping in. Geralt was an annoyingly light sleeper, so he had been easily roused by the noise.

He felt…warm? Too warm.

He glanced down. During the night he must have rolled on to his back again and was now sporting a new sleeping accessory. A Jaskier. The man’s face was firmly tucked in to his chest and one of his arms sprawled across it. _Oh. No._

“Jaskier,” Geralt’s voice was rough from sleep and he shook the man lightly. When Jaskier did not immediately wake up, Geralt shook a little harder. “Jaskier.”

A small sound vibrated in Jaskier’s throat, similar to the noise a cat makes when you disturb it’s slumber. He just about managed to peel an eye open enough to note that he was staring up at Geralt and suddenly he was more awake than he thought, “What’s- oh… hello.” _Oh. No._ “Good… morning?” It was still dark outside.

“Get. Off.”

The low rumble of Geralt’s voice deep in his chest paired with the fact that Jaskier could have _sworn_ that he saw Geralt’s eyes flash made him retreat to his side of the bed quick as anything. He was practically hanging off the edge of the mattress with the duvet just about covering him, but he tried to remain as still as possible, focusing on calming his breathing down so that he could hopefully fall back to sleep and forget the whole compromising situation ever happened.

Geralt rolled back on to his side again, but as he moved his arm, he felt something on his shirt. He frowned, trying to focus his eyes enough to see what it was.

“You _drooled_ on me?”

_This._

_Is._

_Definitely._

_Not._

_Fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier's shirt for the chapter: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/843721311429787724/?nic_v1=1a5AL1Jk5KQrduRiawUeTNwr01%2B5Pl4VTOsmBvzjCbq%2B5pRqy7q4JvFNn6T0kVhSWK
> 
> Songs included are:  
> Hozier - In The Woods Somewhere  
> The Amazing Devil - Wild Blue Yonder
> 
> hope you are all well, my dudes  
> i can go back to my office at the beginning of july so i'll have even less time to write but i'm still going to try my hardest to hit the fortnightly deadline  
> when i first started planning this au i wrote down a checklist to aim for 2,000 words per chapter and i have... more than exceeded that  
> the last chapter just tipped over the original total word count that i had planned and I was not even half way through the story  
> so with that in mind im sure you can do the math but im finally cool with announcing that there will be a grand total of 12 chapters  
> am i mad at myself that it's not 13 chapters because 13 is my favourite number youre damn right i am but i could not think of another good idea that would fit with the plot that i have outlined  
> also added note to say sorry to utterchaos after their comment on the last chapter, i'll take minus 50 points for not following advice because that part of the plot was already written out by the time I had received the suggestion aha


	6. Bring me a coffee. -Y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know you said you want to make the most of my talents and alcohol supply, but you may want to slow down a bit on an empty stomach.”  
> “Ah, yes, I suppose you’re right. Don’t want you thinking I’m some sort of party animal-“  
> “You got a drunken tattoo.”  
> “-Speaking of empty stomachs…”

@existentialqueer: did the tour go well? That a souvenir?

@damnuninspired: enjoy your holiday! You deserve a break. Your Manchester gig was great!

@lemonyellowsugar: hey can I get a shoutout for my birthday?

@bihexualdisaster: Who is that HUNK of a specimen?

What better way to distract himself from the probable impending embarrassment than reading through the Instagram comments on his latest post. The pictures he took yesterday had been received… fairly well by his standards. Jaskier was not exactly famous, per se, but he had a modest following on the app, including a lot of loyal fans who had stuck around for some years.

It was not that he was particularly vain at all (though he was) or that he did not have that many friends to take pictures with (he made friends pretty much everywhere he went), Jaskier just tended to post pictures of just himself or little snapshots of his surroundings if he found something rather pretty. So to suddenly add in a random stranger out of the blue meant that the majority of the comments were along the same lines: Who on Earth was this mystery man in the pictures?

@dandylion: @bihexualdisaster Travelling companion~!

When they had finally reached the London office of Vengerberg Management, Jaskier had been left with strict instructions from Geralt to sit on the sofa in the reception area while he went to speak to the receptionist. Or ‘Gatekeeper’ as he had called her.

“Geralt, darling!” The receptionist looked up from typing away from her computer and gave the man a small smile. “I’m surprised you still remember after all this time. How long has it been now?”

“Don’t you know? Time ceases to exist when I’m not with you, Tissaia.” He leant on the shelf of her desk with a smile of equal measure.

“No need for that now, we both know you’re horrid at flirting and your efforts are wasted anyway.”

Geralt placed a hand on his heart to show how wounded he felt. “Still just a receptionist? Would have thought you would be running this place by now.”

“Personal assistant, thank you. I just like having a desk out here to be nosey. And please, we all know she gets her better ideas from me,” she checked her nails with a smirk that quickly turned to a frown. They could do with a file.

“Speaking of the literal devil, can you inform her highness that we’re here.”

“I can indeed, but she’s not exactly happy,” she began to type away at her keyboard again, “You’re late, you know. And she has to leave soon for a meeting with a client.”

“I am late because she asked me to pick her up a coffee, so it’s her own damn fault.”

Then it was Tissaia’s turn to pretend to be hurt. “You went and got her a coffee but you didn’t get me one? How dare you.”

Geralt shrugged. “You have coffee here.”

“So does she!” She shook her head and tried to wave him off before a smile broke the serious face she was trying to keep. “Go and sit your arse down before I kick it there.”

@bihexualdisaster @dandylion oh is that what they call it these days?

@valdomarxx: Jaskier, hasn’t anybody told you you’re not famous enough to hire a body guard?

_Ugh. Fucking Valdo._

@dandylion: @valdomarxx good thing I hired a hitman instead xo

“Ever thought about leaving bartending for a career in protecting people? Say… being a bodyguard?” Jaskier’s eyes did not leave his phone, but he knew that it was Geralt approaching him. His steps were remarkably quiet for such a heavy looking person.

“Being your bodyguard would be far too much work,” he tapped his foot, waiting for Jaskier to move his guitar off of the sofa so that he could sit down.

“Ah, yes, the fans can get a little excited some times. They can be a real handful,” Jaskier moved the guitar, “And really handsy.”

“No,” Geralt smirked as he sat down, “Because I can imagine there would be a hell of a lot of people who have it out for you.”

“Rude!” he slapped Geralt’s arm lightly, “But alas, true.”

“The butterfly shirt was a…” he tried to choose his words carefully, deciding now was probably not actually a great time to upset him, “Choice.”

“What can I say? The butterflies in my stomach influenced it.”

They sat together for a while in silence as they waited. The time allowed for a nasty feeling in Jaskier’s stomach to stew. Nervousness. That was all it was. Nerves. He was about to meet with an agent for the first time who was going to judge if he was actually good at his life’s passion or not. His leg bounced up and down.

Up and down.

Up and down.

Up and down.

Up and down.

Up and

Geralt placed his hand on Jaskier’s knee. “Calm.”

Jaskier looked at Geralt’s hand and then up to his face. “Geralt, I-“

“She’s ready for you now,” Tissaia announced without leaving her desk.

With a nod, Geralt stood and picked up Jaskier’s bag, leaving the guitar for the other to carry. “You ready?” he asked, leading the way.

Jaskier coughed out a laugh, “Do I have a choice?”

“Not after this many miles, no,” he tilted his head towards the door, “Come on, let’s go.”

Jaskier held his breath as he walked in to the office. It was dark and sleek and elegant and horrifically intimidating. And so, he would find, was the woman standing in the middle of it.

She was tall and slim with wavy hair down to her elbows that was as black as a raven. She was wearing a matching black blazer and trouser combination that had clearly been tailored for her specific measurements. Her nails were like half inch long talons, black of course, and looked as if she was ready to claw your heart out, and you would apologise for it. She was honestly, in Jaskier’s opinion, scarily breathtaking. And probably the reason why he had not taken another breath since they had stepped in to the room.

“You know, Geralt,” she spoke as soon as the door closed behind the two men, "When you’re the person to request the appointment, you would do well to actually arrive on time for it.”

“Yennefer, did I mention how grateful I am that you somehow managed to find time in your busy schedule of sitting around all day doing fuck all to see me?”

Jaskier looked between the two of them, heart in his throat as they both stared each other down. “Hi, Yennefer was it? I’m Jaskier, thank you awfully for seeing me today.” He put down his guitar walked up to her so that he could hold out his hand to shake hers.

She looked at it. And then to the cardboard tray of cups in his other hand. “One of those better be for me.”

“Oh yes, sorry, here,” realising she probably was not going to shake his hand, he took out one of the cups and handed it over to her before retreating back to Geralt’s side to hand him one too.

The woman took a sip from the disposable cup and her nose immediately scrunched. “Did you put a shot in this?”

Geralt shot Jaskier a glare and Jaskier sent back a guilty grin.

Just as they had entered the coffee shop, Geralt got a call from his work and left to take it outside, leaving Jaskier with the instruction of ordering two plain Americanos and whatever he wanted for himself. Now, Geralt should have known better than to trust Jaskier with the task because Jaskier had hinted that the next time they were in a coffeeshop together that he was going to order for him. And he had only started small, mind, a single shot of vanilla syrup.

“Sorry, that one’s mine,” Geralt muttered as he swapped over the cups.

“No trouble, it was quite nice.”

Jaskier elbowed Geralt’s side and raised his brows at the man to say ‘Told you so’.

Yennefer, observing the exchange, quirked a brow and took a sip of her rightful drink. _Hmm_. Perhaps she would have to alter her order in future. “Surprised to see you sprucing up your coffee, Geralt.”

“Not by choice.” But _damn._ Masking his surprise after taking a mouthful of the upgraded coffee by clearing his throat. _Bastard was right._

“And was your new shadow a choice?” She hid her smirk behind her cup.

 _Oh, she means me._ “No, he-“

“Yes. He’s good, really good. You should get him signed.”

Jaskier glanced at Geralt to give him a thankful smile that was disrupted as Yennefer barked a laugh.

“And since when did you start appreciating music, Geralt? Or start telling me what I should do?”

“Since finding you your next star.”

And now Jaskier’s heart was in his mouth. He tried to swallow it down.

Yennefer put her coffee down on her stupidly large desk and closed the distance between them so that she could circle Jaskier slowly like a jaguar stalking its prey. “Put your bag down,” she ordered and Jaskier immediately shrugged off his rucksack. “Go on, speak up, Jassier, was it?”

“Uh,” Jaskier cleared his throat and tried to smile, though it felt wrong to, “Sorry, it’s Jaskier, I should have spoken clearer. I do covers and mashups of songs. I’m good. I have a couple of self-made albums and I’ve just come off of a year long tour around various venues in the UK with a good turnout. I have a modest following on Instagram, Facebook and YouTube and I-“

Yennefer took Jaskier’s chin between her thumb and finger and Jaskier felt his breath catch. He held as still as he could until she manoeuvred his head from side to side, evaluating it.

“Well if you want to appeal to a younger audience, we’re going to have to do something about this face. Something to get ride of those crows feet, definitely-“

Jaskier slapped her hand away with a disbelieving glare. “Ex-fucking-scuse you, I already appeal to a younger audience. Because _I am_ young. You can check the demographics on my accounts. Both young and old in equal measures. I will not be doing anything to alter my devilish good looks, especially not after a comment from a woman who looks like she should be first in line for a brow lift with a side order of an attitude adjustment.” He stopped breathing again. _Shit. I have fucked up._

Geralt blinked. _Shit. That was almost impressive._

_Well shit. Do I need a brow lift?_ The woman raised an eyebrow and Jaskier worried that she was trying to make a statement with it.

Jaskier reached for his guitar, his mind a mess of songs as he tried to remember which one he had settled on to try and impress her with. “Look, just let me show you. I can play something-“

“Please don’t. I’m not very good at hiding my emotions, so if you’re shit, it will just be awkward for all of us.”

He nearly dropped the case. All this way and all this hope only for him to fuck it up on the final hurdle. She did not even want to hear him play a pity song. She did not even have to let him finish the song, but here she was, not even letting him get his guitar out of it’s case. Geralt’s picks were wasted on him.

“Yen-“ Geralt started to try and appeal to her, but she held up her hand to silence him.

“For Geralt to try and convince me that you’re good enough to sign, it either means you are abnormally talented by everyone else’s standards, or you’re a damn good screw.” Both men started to protest their innocence of the latter, but she held her hand up firmer and closed her eyes until she received silence. “Take my card,” she plucked one off of her desk and held it out for him, “Send me a link to your social media accounts and I will have a look at them. See if you are actually as good as Geralt claims you are.”

“Thank you… I think…” he stepped forward to take it from her before falling back in line with Geralt, eyes fixed to the card that was now feeling rather heavy in his hands.

“See?” Geralt nudged Jaskier with his shoulder, “You don’t have to throw business cards at people.”

Jaskier just nudged him back with an awkward chuckle and Yennefer just stood there, arms crossed, disgusted by whatever sort of interaction she had just witnessed.

“But be warned: You said you do covers, right?” She waited for Jaskier to answer with a nod, “I won’t allow you to produce covers. Only originals. I will watch your covers to set a gauge on your level of talent, but you have a week to send me an original song, got that?”

It took Jaskier a moment, but he reluctantly nodded.

“Now, if that is all, both of you: out,” she made a shooing motion with her hands and turned to walk back round her desk, “I have to get ready for a meeting.”

“We’re not done here and you know it.”

She turned back round when Geralt spoke but remained where she stood. Jaskier could swear he could see fire in her eyes. And suddenly the atmosphere in the room completely changed.

“O…kay then, I am feeling very uncomfortable with the vibe in this room right now, so I’m just gonna…” Jaskier gestured with a click over his shoulder to the door and expected Geralt to make a move and follow him, but that was not the case.

“Wait outside, Jaskier,” Geralt ordered him, but did not take his eyes off of Yennefer, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Both Yennefer and Geralt stood their ground as Jaskier looked between them before turning on his heels with a low whistle, picking up his bags and making his exit, closing the door behind him.

The room remained silent for a while as they stared each other down again before eventually Yennefer broke it with an exasperated sigh. “When are you planning on leaving?”

“I’m going back to the apartment tonight and then leaving in the morning.”

She picked her coffee back up with a roll of her eyes. “I meant my office, but okay.”

Geralt took a few steps closer and softened his voice, some of his tension easing. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“With you taking him back to the apartment? So long as you do not think he is a mass murderer, then yes, it’s fine. Not because I’m worried about him killing you, but for the fact that he will know the location of the apartment. And I’d like to sleep soundly without the worry that a mass murderer could be lurking in my wardrobe.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“We’re not together anymore, Geralt,” She moved round her desk to sit down in her chair, “You do not have to try and spare my feelings.”

“If we were together, I would not be trying to spare your feelings.”

She laughed, but there was no humour in it. “I told you I was fine when you called the other week.”

“I know. But face to face I can tell when you’re lying.”

“There’s such a thing as video calls, Geralt.”

“Yes, but knowing you you’d prerecord something to lie that way instead.”

“Geralt I…” she scoffed and shook her head in disbelief, rubbing her fingertips over her brow bone. She did not need a brow lift, the bastard. “I cannot express how much it does not work that way. I hope your boyfriend teaches you a thing or two about technology.”

“Again, not my boyfriend.”

“Mm,” she hummed, looking the man up and down and raised her eyebrows in a dismissive manner, “Keep telling yourself that. I am a little upset that you did not mention it to me.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and tossed his now cold coffee into the bin by her desk. “Because there was nothing to mention. And anyway, that’s rich coming from the woman who started fucking her secretary straight away.”

“Personal assistant. And do not change the subject.”

“You changed the subject!” he threw his hands up incredulously.

The woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She did change the subject, yes, because she wanted this conversation to be dead and buried. But it was far from over as far as Geralt was concerned, until he received his answer. She opened her eyes to look directly at him and placed her hands together on the desk. “Geralt. Go to Poland. I am fine. I know the life I once wanted is not longer in the cards for me-“

He took a step closer, “But it could still be-“ Yennefer held up a hand to stop him.

She gave a small shake of her head before continuing, “And I have made my peace with it.”

Geralt let silence fall between them again as he evaluated the sincerity in her face and tone. Genuine, he settled on, and gave an understanding nod. He would accept her answer.

“But Geralt…”

Geralt frowned because it almost sounded like her voice was laced with concern and her expression certainly matched. He could not remember the last time he had ever seen her concerned about something.

“Think hard about if you want him involved in this too. It could be… complicated.”

Rather than arguing another case, Geralt paused for a moment before giving a curt nod and turning to leave the office. As his hand touched the doorknob, Yennefer called out, “I’ll expect an invitation to the ceremony in spring. And change the sheets before you leave!”

There was the Yennefer he remembered.

Of course, when Jaskier left the office, he did as he was told and went to wait on the sofa. And yet, despite having met Yennefer, he was left sitting there with the same feeling in his stomach. After a while, he realised what the feeling was.

His leg began to bounce.

He bit his lip as he looked towards the door.

_Better to leave now than_

“Hi, excuse me, sorry,” Jaskier picked up his bag and guitar and walked over to the receptionist. “When Geralt comes out, can you tell him I said thanks?”

“Of course, darling.” Tissaia smiled politely at him and wished him a good day as he turned to leave.

“Jaskier, right?”

Jaskier turned back round to nod at her.

“Sorry, I thought your name sounded familiar when Geralt mentioned it, but I could not place it at first. My friend told me about your gig in Reading. She said you were really good.” She showed him a picture on her phone from Instagram. Him, standing on the stage mid song, multicoloured lights flashing around him.

“Tell her the next show I organise there is dedicated to her,” he offered a small smile before he left.

No more than thirty seconds later Geralt walked back in to the reception area. He gave her a small nod before looking over to the sofa. He stopped dead.

_He better be in the fucking toilet._

“He said to say thank you,” Tissaia piped up as she noticed Geralt’s expression. She thought it was almost sweet how heartbroken he looked, but knew better than to pry.

“For fuck sake,” he muttered under his breath with a shake of his head and quickly headed for the door. He hoped that he had not left that long ago.

“Geralt?”

Geralt stopped to look back over his shoulder at Tissaia.

“You break that ones heart and he’ll write a damn good song about it.”

Whether it was the fact that they had spent the majority of the last few days sat down in a car, or the fact that he was weighed down with bags, but Jaskier had not managed to walk far. And luckily, despite the streets of London being as packed as ever, it was pretty easy to spot a guy in a bug shirt, parting the crowd with a guitar turned battering ram.

Geralt dodged through a stream of other people as quick as he could before coming to a stop in front of Jaskier.

“Hi.”

Jaskier blinked, stopping in his tracks after nearly bumping in to Geralt’s chest. “Hi?” _What on Earth are you doing out here?_

“Are you okay?” _What on Earth are you doing out here?_

“I uh… yes. I think,” he frowned slightly, “Are _you_ okay?”

Geralt looked between Jaskier’s face and the guitar case, to his face and then the case again before grabbing it and walking back the way they came from.

“Geralt? Geralt wait! Geralt, what the fuck? Wait up!”

As Geralt opened the door to the apartment, it pushed away some post that had piled up behind it since the last person’s visit. He frowned and ushered Jaskier inside, telling him to go on ahead while he picked it all up.

To say Jaskier’s mouth fell open as he walked in was an understatement. It was practically disconnected and trailing across the floor behind him as he walked.

The apartment was the thing of dreams. The sort of place that you would see listed on a news article on some website listing the top places to rent out in London. The sort of place you would say you would buy if you won the lottery. The sort of place you would buy for yourself if you were famous. It was exquisite, breathtaking, unbelievable. Jaskier certainly could not believe that Geralt owned a place like this. He was a supposed to be living on a bartenders wage, God damn it. It made Jaskier’s place look like a shoe box.

He turned slowly round in the middle of the room, trying to take it all in and how open plan and sleek it looked. A gorgeous kitchen with an island, a dining room and living room all in one large room and there were three other doors leading off to further rooms because of course there was, of course there was more than just this one feeble room that could easily have fit two of Jaskier’s flat inside.

Pressed up against one of the walls was a silver table holding a marble tray and a few carefully arranged framed photographs. Magpie that he was, Jaskier found himself drawn in by it, but frowned as he noticed the photographs.

“Hey, Geralt?” Jaskier called out as as he picked up one of the frames for a closer look.

“You better not be touching anything,” came the reply from the hallway as Geralt locked the front door.

Jaskier quickly put the frame back down roughly in the same spot on the table. If he remembered correctly. “Did you meet Yennefer modelling?”

Geralt sighed, still in the hallway, taking a quick look through the post he had picked up. “I told you I don’t model. Never have, never will,” he finally walked in to the room and gave Jaskier a warning look as he tossed his keys and the post on to the tray. “So do not think about asking me to pose for something.”

 _Damn_. “Then what’s this?” he pointed to the photograph.

Geralt frowned as he looked back over his shoulder to check what Jaskier was referring to and quirked a brow. “Well I didn’t meet her on our wedding day if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You-“ he huffed with a shake of his head, "You bloody well know that is not what I was asking. You’re _married_?!” Of course he was married. That was just Jaskier’s luck. While the marital status of his potential partners had not exactly been his biggest concern in the past, he had made a recent pact to himself that he intended to stick to and God damn it, why had he made that pact? Jaskier heard a scoff from from Geralt as the man walked away which probably could have justified as an answer.

“Divorced.”

“Oh…” _Oh_.

“Not that it’s any of your business.“

“No, no, I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry, it’s just-“ Jaskier tried to splutter out some sort of apology but then Geralt turned round to halt it in it’s tracks with his version of a shit eating grin. Jaskier placed his hands on his hips to show that he was not exactly pleased with that fact that Geralt was messing with him.

“Together a couple of years, married for one, divorced for…” he stopped, calculating for a moment, “About six years now. Does that answer at least a few of the questions that I can literally hear bouncing off the walls of your skull?”

Jaskier nodded wordlessly. It did. But there was still about ten more that he would like answered.

“Make yourself comfortable, I guess, while-“

“You guess?”

“-I go have a shower because I can’t get the smell of smoke out of my nose,” Geralt scrunched his features and walked over to the sofa on the far side of the room to finally put Jaskier’s guitar down somewhere safe.

“Coming from the ex-smoker.” Jaskier had aimed to say it under his breath, but it came out loud enough for Geralt to hear it.

And hear it he did. Geralt had turned back with a raised brow as if to say ‘What was that?’ and jolted the guitar mid-air, threatening to drop it.

“No!” a strangled scream escaped Jaskier as he darted across the room for his prized possession, only coming to a halt when he was close enough to rescue it from Geralt’s devious grip, and cradled it safely in his arms. He glared at the smirking man, watching him walk out of the room and in to another, which he assumed must be a bedroom. “Would be a shame if you accidentally drowned yourself!” Jaskier called out and he noted Geralt wave off the remark before closing the door behind him.

And now he was left on his own. In a stupidly expensive looking apartment. _Hard to make myself comfortable when I do not even feel like I should be here_ , he thought to himself as he looked around at the minimalistic decor. The place had much the same vibe that Jaskier got from Yennefer’s office slash technically the whole building, which led Jaskier to believe that Geralt had had no say in the choice of styling and had just left that to the woman’s tastes.

It felt weird even to just put his bag down in front of the table with the pictures on, as if he was instantly making the place messier. Which he was, he guessed and _oh God_ he was still wearing his shoes, he had probably dragged so much dirt from the forest and London in with him. He had been so easily distracted by how absurd the apartment was that he had completely forgotten to take them off.

After darting back down the hallway to safely discard his shoes by the door (which were far less dirty than he had feared, but still, it was the polite house guest thing to do) Jaskier made his way over to the rather uncomfortable looking sofa with his guitar. It was the sort of sofa that you knew would make your stomach flip over if you knew how much it truly cost and expensive enough that it was actually more of a decorative statement rather than a functional piece of furniture as sofas should be. It looked as if you would bruise your arse if you sat down on it just a bit too quick.

Jaskier braced himself for the impact as he sat and _holy shit_ if that was not the best thing he had ever sat on.

 _Well…_ One of the best things.

He marvelled at the way that it felt as if it just moulded to his body before readjusting himself so he could sit up a little straighter to take his guitar out of the case and play to pass the time. Did he have anything good enough to send to Yennefer? Was anything even ready to be heard?

Geralt let the powerful stream of water cascade over his body and steam filled the bathroom quickly. It was so hot he could almost feel his blood boil. As he sighed, parting the steam, he felt his muscles relax one by one. The smell of smoke could wash off of his skin and he could scrub away at his scalp to rid the scent from his hair, but no amount of water or clawing could rid the man’s mind of the thoughts that were forming there.

_Why did I go after him?_

_He wanted to leave, he did not wait._

_I should have just let him go._

_He knew where we stood._

_Why would I bring him back here? Now he knows where I live. Even if I do not exactly live here anymore._

_So what is your plan now, exactly?_

_You have to leave tomorrow morning. And you are going to, what? Kick him out after you are the one who brought him here? Let him stay here without you until he decides to go home?_

_You could just ask him what his plan is._

_Why do you not ask?_

_Because you are afraid he will ask._

_Why do you not want to tell him?_

_Why do you care about his opinion?_

_Why do you care?_

A blast of cold water worked wonders for shocking his system back in to gear. He ended all of his showers in the same way; the iciness chilling him back to reality. His fingers caught on various tangles as he tried to brush them though his hair, before swiping at the fogged up mirror. Droplets of condensation fell from the glass and on to the sink below as Geralt stared back at the reflection. Same face, same shit.

With another sigh, he took a towel from the shelf and wrapped it around his waist before he opened the door to walk back in to the bedroom, making his entrance in a cloud of steam most rockstars would pay good money for. He knew Jaskier would. He could hear noise from the other room and assumed Jaskier had just figured out how to turn on the television. At least he had found a way to keep himself occupied. Hopefully the man had not found a way to make a mess, for Geralt was in no particular mood to kick in to maid duties.

There was no point in putting back on the clothes he had been wearing because he was sure the smell would have transferred over to the material, nor was there any sense in putting on another proper outfit when he just intended on staying indoors until the morning. Luckily he still kept a few items of clothing in the apartment, Geralt just hoped they still fit. He found some black pyjama shorts that fit perfectly fine and the largest t-shirt that he could find was just a fraction tight, but it would have to do. He knew he should have got the tube back to Roach so that he could grab his bag before going to the apartment.

As Geralt approached the door the noise from the other room was no longer just noise. He recognised the voice. Carefully, he opened the door trying to make as little noise as possible.

“ _I’ve loved you, for a hundred years._

_Certainly fucking feels like it._

_The minute I met you, the colours of my life began to pour._

_I’m scared of the dark._

_And now, even though you’re mad and these memories won’t stay,_

_that's okay,_

_'cause then I get to meet you for the first time every single day._

_I’ll wait and hope._

_Your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep,_

_but a place for crows to rest their feet._

_I’ll wait and hope_

_and rest my head at night content_

_knowing where my marbles w-”_

“The whole ‘crows feet’ thing got to you that much, huh?”

Jaskier span round with a yelp, clutching at his chest. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to sneak up on people? Nearly had a bloody heart attack.” Jaskier watched as Geralt scoffed and approached the sofa to lean on the back of it. _Those legs_. Sure, it was not to difficult to tell how toned Geralt’s legs were in the tight jeans he usually wore, but seeing them in the flesh? That was something else. Jaskier could imagine if those shorts were a little higher a thought about the crushing capability of those thighs might pop in to his head. The man’s shirt was as tight as sin too, covered in darker patches where his hair dripped on to the fabric. It had to be on purpose, right? Geralt had to be messing with him? The man had to know how weak at the knees it would make Jaskier feel to see him looking like that. It was a good thing he had been sitting down.

Turning his attention away from Geralt and back to the his guitar, he cleared his throat and lined up his fingers on the frets. “I’m sorry if I was too loud. You said to make myself comfortable.

Geralt waved off the apology as he moved round to join Jaskier on the sofa. Before he sat down, he reached behind his head to tie his hair back in to a bun to get it out of the way. In doing so, the hemline of his shirt rose a little to reveal the skin below and Jaskier silently cursed himself for the fact that he could not drag his eyes away from it.

“Do not apologise. You’ll need all the practice you can get working with Yen.”

‘ _Yen_ ’.

“Yeah uh… about that,” he scratched his eyebrow with his pick, “I’m not sure I’m gonna-“

Suddenly the pick was plucked out of his hand and he had no other option but to stare at the culprit who was giving him a very deadpan look.

“Oh, you’re gonna,” Geralt’s voice was low, threatening and Jaskier felt himself shrink to half the size as a shiver ran down his spine, “I did not endure over four hundred miles of travelling with some stranger with the most inflated ego I have ever come across and hand him a golden opportunity on a silver platter for him to then turn around and say no, I do not want to sign up for a life changing deal, I’ve changed my mind. This was not a holiday, Jaskier, this was a business trip.”

 _Right_ , Jaskier thought, _only business, no pleasure_.

Geralt sighed. _I am an arsehole._ “Jaskier, look… I lied.”

And oh, how that peaked Jaskier’s curiosity.

“When we first met you asked me which of your songs was my favourite and I said I was not listening. I was. I thought you were good. Could I tell you what my favourite song was? No. Because I cannot tell you what any of the songs you sung were.” He noted Jaskier’s confused frown before continuing. “I remember ‘wide blue yonder’, the ‘endless blue’. I remember-“ he stopped for a moment, thinking of how to phrase it exactly and was distracted by Jaskier’s expression again which had now turned so hopeful. “I remember seeing your face as you sang. How different it looked compared to how you were at the pub. You looked-” he held back as Jaskier’s endless blue eyes looked somehow even more hopeful, “For lack of a less sickening comparison: more… free. I’ll make you a deal. You send Yennefer the videos, or I’ll take these back to the shop, deal?” He held out the pick to the man who accepted it with an open hand. Geralt placed it in the centre of the palm, taking the gesture as a agreement to his terms.

Jaskier stared at it. “Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

He looked up at the man. “Why did you bring me back here?”

 _Yeah, idiot, why did you bring him back_?

The silence that fell between them then was just about bearable for Jaskier for one reason and one reason only. Geralt was staring in to his eyes with such a burning intensity and for the first time that night Jaskier was not shying away from it, but holding his ground because some, probably insane, part of him had convinced himself that maybe, just maybe, he had chipped through far enough to the point where this was the moment Geralt would get over himself and grab him and kiss him. Without realising it, his head was even tilting closer towards him ever so slowly.

Geralt broke the eye contact first, settling back in to the sofa with a small shrug of his shoulders, trying to buy himself some more time to scramble around in his brain for some sort of answer, any kind of answer. He would not mind if he was just answering the question for the man, but he was trying to answer it for himself, too.

Jaskier had flinched, breath hitching as Geralt moved away and retreated too, giving up all hope in receiving an answer, either in words or an action and tried to break through the now thick tension in the room by picking at the same note over and over again.

On the seventh pluck, Geralt finally spoke up. “You still owe me for the last lot of petrol.” _Smooth, idiot._ “Felt weird asking for money on the street.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Sorry,” Jaskier apologised halfheartedly and quickly pulled out his phone so that he could transfer over the money that he had promised before they had set out for the trip. If he had not been paying such close attention to the feeling of his heart corroding away at the bottom of his stomach, he might have allowed himself to wonder why on Earth Geralt had invited him back to ask for money that he clearly did not need. Then again, since when did Jaskier ever listen to his head over his heart?

What was that look in Jaskier’s eyes that Geralt could not place? Whatever it was, it almost seemed like they had darkened by two shades and had sort of… lost their spark. He swallowed. “Besides,” another shrug as he continued, the quirk of Jaskier’s brow telling him that the man was surprised that he had, “Hotels in London are unnecessarily expensive. Sofa’s free.”

Jaskier blinked. And blinked again. “You’re…. letting me stay here for the night?”

“I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘Thank you, Geralt, for saving me both time and money.’” He tried to regain a little bit more of a lighter atmosphere.

It seemed to work because even though Jaskier was shaking his head in disbelief, he was doing so with a smile. And the smile stayed firmly in place as they locked eyes again.

_There’s that light again. Good._

“Geralt? Where-“

“Are you hungry?” Geralt suddenly stood up and made his way over to the kitchen without waiting for a response. He knew what question Jaskier had on his mind, and Geralt had nearly given himself an aneurysm over the last one, so the next one probably would have killed him off.

“I- well, I mean yeah, but-“ Jaskier quickly placed his guitar safely on the sofa before he got up to go and join the man, still slightly confused at the sudden jump.

“I do not think anyone’s lived here for a couple of weeks- I’m not quite sure what we have in,” he opened a few cupboard doors, scowling at their lack of contents before moving on to the next one. “I can always order something in, what do you fancy?”

 _You._ “No, that’s fine, I have an idea,” Jaskier peered over Geralt’s shoulder as the man continued to look through the cupboards and spotted a box that took his fancy. He slapped Geralt’s hand away from closing the door and took out the box to look for an expiration date. “Let me cook for you. To say thank you for letting me stay the night.”

 _Oh_. Geralt did not say anything. He had not had anything cooked for him, unless he was eating out somewhere, since he was a kid. Out of the two of them, he could not recall a single time where Yennefer had ever offered to cook for him.

Jaskier rattled the box of rice in front of Geralt’s face to try to get his attention back on track. “Earth to Geralt?” he smiled slightly when Geralt was brought back to the present, “Do you like risotto?”

“Yes.” He answered simply because the answer was in fact ‘hell yes’. Risotto was one of Geralt’s favourite dishes, that is why he always had a stock of arborio rice in the cupboard. Carnaroli too, as and when he could find it in the shops. “But like I said, I would not have half of the ingredients you would need in-“

“It’s fine,” Jaskier was already tapping away at his phone, planning, “I can order in the ingredients that I need, I’ve always wanted to use this delivery app. Now let’s see…”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for us to just, I don’t know, order a risotto from somewhere?”

Jaskier looked up from his phone briefly to give him an accusatory glare. “You’re worried about my cooking, aren’t you? Do you think I’m going to be shit enough to give you food poisoning? Geralt,” he placed a hand on his chest, “I am a romantic at heart- I _know_ how to cook. Just…” he shrugged his shoulders and offered an innocent smile, “Trust me?”

After a few moments, which made Jaskier doubt even himself, Geralt sighed in defeat and took the box away from a very upset Jaskier.

“You don’t trust me?! We’ve known each other for how long now and you still don’t trust me? I’m telling you, my friend, you are missing out on the meal of a lifetime!”

“Christ, calm down,” Geralt groaned in contrast against Jaskier’s increasing pitch and crouched to place the box back in the cupboard it had come from, pulling out another one to replace it. “Are you always so dramatic?” he asked as he stood back up and placed the new box on the counter in front of Jaskier, “I was just getting this out for you. It’s a better rice for risottos.”

“Oh…” Jaskier cleared his throat to smooth down his feathers, “Yes. Well then. I’ll order in the other ingredients,” he confirmed as if he had not already added half of what he needed to the app’s basket. “Do you have any wine I could use?”

Geralt raised a humoured brow, but made no attempt to move. “You’re asking a bartender if he has any wine?”

Now it was Jaskier’s turn to raise a brow, ignoring his phone for a moment. “Come on, Geralt, you’re telling me you can afford this place on a bartender’s salary?”

The man shrugged and made his way over to the wine rack next to the bar cart, both of which looked like they were fully stocked with expensive alcohol including a lot of bottles and names Jaskier did not recognise. “I’m a good bartender.”

Not an ounce of shame in him, Jaskier leaned forward on the kitchen island and watched as Geralt crouched again (oh, there was the thought of strong, crushing thighs) to look through the wine rack. “Mhmm,” he hummed, admiring the view, “Prove it.”

Geralt peered over his shoulder at the man and the look they exchanged was something wicked and pricked heat in to Jaskier’s cheeks. “Deal.”

As Jaskier continued to add items to his order, Geralt brought back over a useable bottle of white wine and placed it on the counter next to the box of rice. “Can you add an orange to the order please.”

Though Jaskier did raise a brow slightly, he did not question Geralt’s addition and did as he was told without a word. He paid for his order and placed his phone on the side, ready for it to ring whenever it was going to arrive. For the moment, all of his attention could be placed in to watching Geralt work.

And work he did. For a brief moment he hesitated over the bar cart, trying to think of not only a cocktail he could serve without fresh fruit juices as there was no fruit in the apartment, but also one that he thought Jaskier might like. To buy himself some more time while he planned, he grabbed a couple of the tools he thought he might need. As he was reaching for the jigger, he noticed an unopened bottle of vermouth on the tray and settled on a final idea. Not his first choice of what he would have made for Jaskier, but it would do for now. First step was to go and retrieve some ice from the freezer.

When he turned round to walk back in to the kitchen, Jaskier pretended, rather suspiciously, that he had not had his eyes glued to Geralt the entire time and in fact had been looking anywhere but his butt, because oh yes, that was a very interesting wall all the way in the opposite direction, was it not? Geralt remained oblivious, very task orientated as he collected some ice in to a mixing glass and took it back over to his stash of alcohol.

Jaskier had to admit that although it was rather attractive to watch a man preparing a drink with such sophisticated ease, it was rather unusual to watch said man do so in pyjamas. Adding a rather casual side to the sophistication.

Using the jigger, he measured out some vermouth and bourbon (though Geralt much preferred rye over bourbon) and added some various bitters from the small droplet bottles that were lined up at the front of the cart. Then came the ice that he had collected and he stirred the concoction with a bar spoon for a couple of minutes to thoroughly chill it before straining it in to a coupe glass. To garnish, Geralt stabbed two Luxardo cherries on to a cocktail stick and gave the drink a quick stir with it before leaning it against the side of the glass.

“Not exactly the ideal but,” he shrugged as he handed over the glass to a slightly apprehensive looking Jaskier who was worrying that it might be a tad too strong and he would look like a wimp.

“Not ideal? I’ve got myself a personal bartender who is letting me drink for free and there’s no waiting at a bar- I’m going to make the most of this far from ideal situation- oh shit, that’s actually good,” Jaskier hissed quietly after he swallowed a sip of the drink. It was very good. Quite different from the usual beer or fruity cocktail he would normally order at a bar. He had always thought drinks that looked like this would be far too strong for his tastes, but this one was divine. He wondered how nice Geralt’s ‘ideal’ might taste.

“First of all, who said anything about drinking for free,” thought it was said with a smirk, clearly no intention of charging, “Secondly, I am offended that you are surprised. I am a good bartender,” he gestured to the room around him to make a point, thought Jaskier was still slightly suspicious of it, “Thirdly…” he paused for a moment, watching Jaskier hum in contentment as he took another sip and tried to think of how to phrase what he wanted to say, “How much do you want to drink?”

Jaskier’s first look was a questioning one as he peered over the rim of the glass, not that Geralt could see it because he was already back over at the drinks cart pouring out roughly two fingers worth of whiskey in to a glass for himself. He was much less fancy about drinks for himself. Jaskier’s second look was a wink as Geralt turned back round, “Like I said, I intend to make the most of this.”

If anything, Jaskier was a little annoyed when Geralt did not get flustered by his wink. It was one of his secret weapons, enough to teeter anyone on the edge of swooning. More so was he annoyed by the fact that he knew jolly well that if the tables were turned, a wink from Geralt would have been like a shot to the heart.

Alas, instead of falling to Jaskier’s feet, Geralt had nodded silently, acknowledging the reply and walked over to the coffee machine and brewed an espresso while Jaskier watched, most enthralled.

“You’ve only just made me a drink and now you intend to sober me up before I’ve even had a chance to finish it?” he held the glass close to his chest, protective.

There was a small, humour laced huff from Geralt as he took the cup and placed it in the fridge along with a couple of glasses varying in shape and size and then walked back over to his whiskey. No explanation offered.

“I know you said you want to make the most of my talents and alcohol supply, but you may want to slow down a bit on an empty stomach,” Geralt raised a brow when he noticed that the majority of Jaskier’s drink was now sat in the bottom of his stomach.

The man glanced down at his glass and then looked back up a little sheepishly. “Ah, yes, I suppose you’re right. Don’t want you thinking I’m some sort of party animal-“

“You got a drunken tattoo.”

“-Speaking of empty stomachs…” Jaskier placed down his glass on the island began checking through the cupboards, trying to remember which ones he had seen the ingredients he needed in. He was quite proud of himself for finding stock cubes and seasonings on his first try, but the olive oil took a few more attempts. He eventually found it in a high cupboard and as he pulled it out to examine the label, Geralt came up behind him. Jaskier froze. And nearly dropped the bottle too.

“You can open this one.” Rather than nudging Jaskier out of the way, his chest pressed in to Jaskier’s side as he reached over the man’s shoulder to grab another bottle that was even higher up and handed it to him. Jaskier just about managed to squeak out a thank you, but mentally cursed himself for the sound.

Luckily a few seconds later, his phone buzzed, a welcome distraction from the fact that his shoulder still felt like a bolt of electricity had shot through it. “Oh would you look at that, the delivery’s nearly here. Who would have thought they could be so quick! Wonderful service really, isn’t it? Life savers. I’ll give them an extra tip for being so efficient. I’m just going to go and wait by the door so I can buzz them up okay, yup.” Making sure he had another sip of his drink first, Jaskier darted out of the room to stand by the front door, leaving Geralt standing there with a slight frown. He was sure he could see a cloud of dust in Jaskier’s wake.

He heard his own phone vibrate and so went over to go and check it. He was glad he had his drink in hand. He would need it.

18:32:12 There’s an extra set of bedding under the bed. -Y  
  
18:32:17 I meant what I said, Geralt. I expect you to change them. -Y  
  
18:32:26 I’ve got to go over to that side of London next week for an event and I do NOT want to turn up at the apartment to be greeted by defiled sheets. -Y

Geralt knew he probably should not have fed in to her teasing, but he also knew that if he did not reply with something, she would have all the more fuel to assume that something was going on.

18:33:00 No threat here. -G

Just as he put the phone down again, it buzzed.

18:33:03 Should still be protection from our heydays in the bedside drawer. Stay safe. xo -Y

He would not dignify that one with a response.

Down the hall, Jaskier was kicking at his shoes while he mentally kicked himself. One stupid touch without any meaning behind it had reduced him to a rambling mess.

When his phone rang, he was back to his usual cheerful and charming demeanour and was about to buzz the delivery guy up, when he looked at the keypad and realised he did not know exactly… how to buzz them up. So out the door he darted and down the stairs and stretched himself between two reception doors to stop them from closing behind him in case they locked him out of the building. He apologised profusely to the courier for making him wait and thanked him also, making sure to wave them off politely wishing them a lovely evening before he raced back upstairs. Only to realise he was now locked out of the apartment.

Geralt frowned when he heard the knock at the door. And the second. On the third he finally walked to the front door to open it, revealing a sheepish looking Jaskier, bags in hand. “Did you lock yourself out?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

“Why did you not just buzz them up?”

“I don’t know the code, do I, smart arse, it’s not my place.” He placed a defensive hand on his hip as if he was not the one to make the mistake.

“No, it’s mine, so why did you not just shout out and ask?”

Jaskier did not have a good enough justification, at least not one that did not make him sound like an idiot, so he simply huffed and shook the bags. “Look, do you want me to cook for you or not?”

Geralt scoffed, but stepped aside. He smirked slightly as Jaskier passed him, walking down the hall as if on a mission. “I mean, you were the one who offered to cook,” he muttered under his breath and closed the front door before following after him.

“Right,” Jaskier breathed as he unpacked the bags on to the kitchen island. Behind him, without being asked, Geralt started to gather some of the tools Jaskier might require to cook. “Oh. Thank you,” he said quietly, surprised as Geralt placed down a couple of chopping boards and knives and spoons next to him. “Here,” he tossed Geralt the orange when his hands were free.

“Thank you,” he caught it with ease and placed it in the fridge for later. For a few moments he stood to the side, leaning against the countertop and watched as Jaskier sorted through the ingredients. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he eventually piped up.

Jaskier hummed and peered over his shoulder. He tended to get a bit lost in his own thoughts when he was cooking, the same way he did with any of his creative outlets. “You could…” his eyes scanned over the ingredients and his mouth quirked in to a small smirk, “You can prepare the chicken if you want. It’s my least favourite part.”

Geralt could not help but snort at that. “Well if you put it that way, I’ll leave you to it,” but he had already pushed himself off of the counter and opened the packet. He used his favourite knife to dice the chicken and decided that he really should invest in another one for back home. Jaskier had already started to heat up a pan and prepare the first ingredients ready to go in it, so Geralt left the chicken on the side. He half expected another instruction from Jaskier, but the man seemed fully distracted with his own actions, humming away to himself. It sounded similar to the tune he had been playing earlier.

When it came to adding the wine, Jaskier narrowed his eyes as he picked up the bottle again. “I swear, it looks so familiar and I cannot for the life of me figure out why. I don’t even drink white wine. I only cook with it occasionally,” he commented as he undid the bottle and sniffed at the contents. Quite nice.

“I do not think you’d have tried it. It’s rare. Famous because there’s only about… two hundred bottles in existence I think.”

Jaskier spluttered, accidentally poured in a splash more than he had meant to. “Ex-fucking-scuse me?” He quickly put the bottle down and squinted at the finer print on the label. Geralt was right. “Holy. Shit. First of all how on _Earth_ did you get your hands on one of these bottles and second and more importantly- why on Earth did you let me just use thousands of pounds worth of wine in a risotto?!”

“Somebody bought it for us as a wedding gift in a charity auction, and,” he shrugged, “I like risotto.”

“Jesus Christ, not only that but it was a wedding present…” Jaskier muttered under his breath, getting over his initial shock enough to carry on cooking.

“It’s fine,” Geralt smirked and placed the bottle in the fridge, “It was just there gathering dust. Neither of us really drink wine. It’s good that it got used. You can drink some with dinner if that will help you get over it?”

“I mean it won’t,” his voice still no more than a mumble, but it would be a bit of a fun thing to say that he had drunk a stupidly expensive bottle of wine, “But if you insist.”

It did not take long for Jaskier to forget his wine guilt, nor did it take as long as Geralt thought for the dish to be finished. Jaskier was quite proficient, though it remained to be taste tested.

“Do you have any bowls I can plate up with, please?”

Geralt nodded and opened one of the cupboard doors to reveal the crockery contents, “Take your pick.”

And oh, did Jaskier’s eyes go wide at the choice. “Oh these are gorgeous…” Jaskier breathed and picked out two wide bowls.

“Mhmm, all handmade. One of the few things I was allowed to choose in this place,” he chuckled quietly to himself and got the wine out of the fridge. He placed it on the table and began to lay the rest of the settings as Jaskier added the final touches to the dish.

“May I present,” Jaskier announced as he brought the bowls over to the table proudly, “My garlic chicken risotto and oh-“ he darted back over to the table to grab a plate of cut bread, “I would have baked some bread but… Nice bread takes a while to make and I was hungry.”

“I think you can be let off seeing as you made a risotto,” Geralt excused Jaskier as he poured out the wine in to two glasses and handed one to him. “Cheers, I guess.”

Jaskier accepted the glass with a small smile as he sat down opposite him and clinked it against Geralt’s. “Cheers, you guess.” Of course, he had to take a curious swig of the wine before he dug in to dinner because who did not want to know what a stupidly expensive bottle of wine tasted like. “Oh wow,” he swirled the liquid round in the glass because that is what people did with fancy wines, right? “If I knew anything about wine I would say this is worth every penny. But I don’t so I’ll just say I’m glad the money went to charity.”

Geralt did not comment and instead, had already put his glass down and picked up his fork ready to taste the meal Jaskier had prepared. To say Jaskier’s knuckled turned white as he gripped at the edge of his seat was an understatement. They were nearly popping out of the skin, so strong was his intense need for Geralt to actually like his cooking. Which was ridiculous, Jaskier knew he was a good cook and he had tested it throughout the process, he himself knew that it tasted good. But he needed to know that Geralt liked it. Some form of approval. Even as satisfied grunt would do.

Geralt’s eyes could not help but widen slightly as he took his first bite. “It’s nice,” he said after he swallowed it and a beat passed before he added, “Very nice.” _Surprisingly nice. The nicest risotto I have had since I visited Italy,_

“ _Very_ nice?” Jaskier was too delighted to even notice that his cheeks had started to flush pink. Not only had Geralt said the meal was ‘nice’, which already was strong enough praise from the man, but he had used an intensifier. To try and calm himself, he got out his phone from his pocket and took a picture of the laid out table because he was that sort of person. No shame in it, either.

“A cook and a musician. Dinner and entertainment. Quite the package,” Geralt added between bites, not taking any notice of how his compliment effected the other.

“That’s what my dates tell me anyway.”

_Oh, God, he is going to think I meant my_

_Oh, God, is he thinking this is a_

There was quiet for about twenty seconds or so (though it felt more like twenty minutes) not a word spoke between them, just forks scraping against the bowls as they both shovelled food in to their mouths in the hopes that it might prevent another awkward interaction.

But then, at the exact same moment, they both looked up at each other and exchanged smirks.

It was business as usual after that. They talked and drank their wine and ate their food and mopped up the remains with the bread. Jaskier insisted that it definitely was not as good as his homemade bread and promised he would make some next time. Geralt did not bring up the fact that there would be no ‘next time’.

“God, I’m still stuffed,” Jaskier puffed out, pushing his chair back from the table about half an hour after they had finished eating. He started to stand at the same time as Geralt.

“Sit. It’s fine. I can clear up,” he picked up the two bowls and the plate the bread had been on, “You don't know where it all goes.”

With a small roll of his eyes, Jaskier sat back down in his chair again, but swivelled round to face the kitchen so that he could watch Geralt, wine glass in hand. it was not as if he could not ask Geralt where everything went, but he would not complain. He watched the man work in silence for a while because Geralt seemed quite content left to his own devices, but as soon as Jaskier’s glass was empty, he grew bored of not talking. He left the table to sit up on the counter directly next to the sink as Geralt finished drying up.

However, Geralt had been turned the other way and did not notice Jaskier sneak up behind him, so when he turned round he was in for a small shock. He frowned; Jaskier’s legs were blocking the cupboard he needed to put the plate in.

“Get down, I need to get there.”

“Oops, sorry, do you?” Jaskier spread his legs to give Geralt access to the cupboard.

And Geralt suddenly remembered why he did not drink wine very often. Though heat rose to his face, it hardened in to a glare. “Get down.”

Jaskier leant forward, emboldened by the alcohol in his system. “Or what?”

“Get. _Down_.”

“ _Make_. Me.”

Silence fell between them as they stared each other down with contrasting expressions.

_This is it._

_That is it._

Geralt eventually took a step back putting the plate on the island and crossed his arms. “Do you want me to teach you how to make an espresso martini?”

“Ooh!” Jaskier immediately hopped down off of the counter, eager to learn. “Sign me up, professor,” he winked at Geralt.

Geralt tilted his head to the side, unimpressed with the new title. “Nobody calls their teacher ‘professor’ unless they’re American.”

“Very well then. How about…” he tapped his chin as he thought to himself before his eyes widened when he settled on his replacement. “Sir…?” he batted his half lidded eyes and lowered his tone to be playful.

 _Oh. Nope_. Geralt shook that image out of his head too and steeled his own gaze.

Thankfully either Jaskier had realised he had taken it too far or decided that he was already bored of this game because he turned away to open the fridge. “Is that why you brewed up a coffee earlier? You were planning ahead?”

Geralt nodded even though Jaskier was not looking in his direction and was instead removing another coupe glass and the espresso from the fridge. “It’s a good one to drink after meals.”

Jaskier chuckled quietly to himself as he put the glass and mug down on the island. It was sweet that Geralt was still trying to prove himself as a decent enough bartender even though he had done so with the first drink. “Come on then, what else do I need, teach?”

Geralt pointed out which bottles and tools to bring over while he shovelled out some ice and watched Jaskier lay them out in much the same way as he had done before he had started cooking. “Equal parts coffee, Kahlua and vodka in to the mixing glass,” he ordered and Jaskier carefully measured them out as he was instructed with the jigger, pouring them over the ice, “Small splash of the vanilla syrup,” Geralt knew that the drink would be on the more bitter side of the scale which he could not imagine being to Jaskier’s sweet-toothed taste, so he had opted to include vanilla vodka and a little bit of syrup, just to tilt the scales. “Secure the tin and shake.”

“Is it not going to fly-“

“Shake.”

Jaskier nodded and did as he was told, a little reluctantly at first, but after the first few shakes with no spillage, he relaxed in to it and shook it continuously, moving it from shoulder to shoulder. “Look at me! Do I look professional?”

Geralt smirked. “Very.” He wondered how long he could leave Jaskier shaking the glass before he would grow tired or bored, but rather than test the idea, he judged a fair time for the drink to be ready. “Should be done by now. Slap against the glass and strain it in to the coupe.”

Again, Jaskier did as he was told and marvelled as the colour began to separate as the liquids settled in the glass. He raised the cocktail up at Geralt before he took his first sip and, as expected, it was delicious.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever made a cocktail! My first time trying a martini too. I feel sophisticated. _And_ it was shaken not stirred!”

“Different sort of martini, but yes,” Geralt huffed a small laugh, “Well done.”

They stood in the kitchen, each leaning up against opposite counters for a fair while, discussing different types of cocktails and some of the more bizarre concoctions Geralt had created for work. Jaskier was about two thirds of the way through his martini when he realised Geralt did not actually have a drink. “Hey, why am I the only one drinking? Why did you not make one for yourself? Or, better yet, why don’t you let me make you one?” His eyes seemed to sparkle with the possible opportunity, but Geralt held up a calm hand to stop him.

“I’ll pour myself a drink,” he reassured him and walked over to the bar cart with a cold glass in hand from the fridge. “I’m not really one for cocktails. More of a straight spirits guy.” He poured out three fingers worth of a clear liquid in to the glass and as he turned around Jaskier frowned at him.

“How do I know you’re not copping out here. That looks like it could just be water.”

Both the corner of Geralt’s mouth and one of his brows quirked in a mischievous manner. “You’re welcome to try it just to check if you want. Though I would advise against smelling it first. Ruins the fun.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes, suspicious, but ultimately put down his own drink and held his nose as he took a sip from Geralt’s glass. It was lucky Geralt was there to take it from him after, otherwise it may have been a mess of shards and alcohol on the floor. “Holy shit,” Jaskier choked out and practically wretched as the alcohol burnt a trail down his throat. He quickly downed the rest of his martini to try and drown out the taste. “How the fuck do you drink that paint stripper?”

Geralt threw back his head and laughed at Jaskier’s reaction. “Vodka,” he eventually managed, “It’s from Poland.”

 _Oh._ Jaskier blinked. Geralt’s laugh was rather nice. Even if it was at his expense. Jaskier would blame the warmth blossoming across his cheeks on the vodka. Not the achingly heartwarming sound of amusement Geralt had just made. Strengthened by the alcohol in his system, Jaskier decided he would try again. “Geralt-“

“That’s where I’m going. Poland.”

Turns out he did not need to ask.

Geralt did not even really know why he had said it. He could tell from the intonation of Jaskier’s voice that the question that was to follow his name was probably going to be that, but it did not mean that he had had to give away the answer. When in doubt, blame it on the alcohol.

“Oh…” Jaskier looked down at the drink in his hand and swirled it. Annoyingly, the fact that he had finally got his answer did not seem to fully quench his curiosity. So he decided to push his luck. “On holiday or?”

Geralt looked at his own drink as if he would find the words to say at the bottom of the crystal clear glass. “To visit my family,” came his eventual answer, eyes not straying from the drink.

“Nice…” Jaskier commented quietly, trying to place the emotion in Geralt’s voice. Though it was fairly undecipherable, he knew it did not sound particularly happy, which was something Jaskier could understand; he was not exactly in the game of playing happy families either. He chewed on his lip. Blame it on the alcohol, but he was going to push his luck just a little bit further. Or a lot. “You know, Geralt, it’s been awfully fun travelling with you these last couple of days-“

“No.”

“-It’s a shame that we have to part ways tomorrow-“

“Don’t say-“

“-Unless we did not have to…”

Geralt rubbed a hand over his eyes. He was really hoping to avoid this conversation. Even if it had to happen tomorrow just before he left, it would have been better than this timing. “Look, Jaskier, you’re nice but-“

“Nice?” He hid a small smile by taking a sip of his drink. _Nice. He thinks I am nice._ A big compliment coming from Geralt as far as Jaskier was concerned.

“I don’t date.”

“Date?!” The smile disappeared and Jaskier’s eyes went wide as he spluttered in to his drink. He had made a habit of that reaction tonight. “Who said anything about a date!”

“You were-“

“I was going to ask if I could come along with you to Poland!”

Geralt frowned at Jaskier and he was transported right back to their first meeting that night in the pub. Why did he feel like it was going to end in much the same way. “Why would you even want to go to Poland?”

 _Because I do not think I am ready to go back to a life without you in it._ “Same reason as you. Family. I have a grandmother in Warsaw. Don’t exactly get to see her often. She’s not very-“

“Don’t you play the pity card on me.”

Jaskier chuckled a little, a little more confident now considering Geralt did not exactly say no to the idea. “Look, we’ve survived each other’s company thus far, what’s another few hundred miles?”

“I won’t be driving back straight away.”

“Yeah, I know what you said before. It’s fine. We can drive to Poland and go our separate ways. I’ll get a flight home, it’s fine.”

Geralt thought for a moment, scraping for anything, any reason at all that would allow him to say no. There was no way that he would survive another ‘few hundred’ (try a thousand) miles with the man, not when Geralt was already starting to

“Even if I said yes, you don’t have a passport with you so you couldn’t-“

Jaskier held up a hand to silence Geralt with a few ‘tutts’ and leapt up off of the sofa to go digging in to his rucksack pockets. He rummaged around for a few moments, so damn certain that he knew that it would be in there somewhere. Then, lo and behold, he held the passport up triumphantly in the air and turned back round to Geralt with a giant grin on his face. “Carried it around with me on tour because I wasn’t quite sure if I needed it or not. Turns out I didn’t, but hey, predicted the future, right?”

Geralt stood with a sigh. Jaskier was standing there, looking so hopelessly optimistic with his passport gripped in his hands and grin plastered across his face.

_This is a mistake._

“Go sit down. I’ll make you another drink,” he started to walk over to the kitchen, but paused to turn back round and warn him, “Don’t be weird about it or I’ll leave you stranded somewhere. Without a passport.”

Somehow, Jaskier’s grin spread even wider. _Let the road trip continue._ “Oh?” he chose a more innocent sounding tone, simultaneously trying to stir and not stir the pot. “What will you make me this time?”

“Surprise.”

“Making me stay over here so you can slip poison in to it so you can back out of taking me with you?”

Geralt sighed and clicked his fingers in a defeated motion. “It’s no fun when you spoil the surprise by guessing.”

Jaskier snorted as he sunk down in to the sofa again, feeling a lot more comfortable this time. “Hey, do you have Netflix?”

Geralt looked at him as if the answer was obvious before giving him the actual answer with a nod of his head and getting back to making the cocktail.

“What? Don’t look at me like that! You don’t like the cinema and were a stooge about paying for a ticket, so I thought you might be a stooge about that too!”

“Remote for the television’s on the coffee table.”

“A flipping touchscreen remote?” Jaskier held it up with an incredulous look.

Geralt did not even bother to look up from what he was doing.

“Oh…” Jaskier looked confused for a few moments after the profile screen loaded, before looking over the back of the sofa to question Geralt again, “You still share an account with her?”

This time Geralt did look up from the drink, again, another expression that questioned why Jaskier would even ask when he could clearly see the answer.

“You mean to say that when you guys got divorced, you didn’t even change the password on the account?”

“No?”

“Huh,” Jaskier leant back against the sofa and crossed his arms in a huff, “Whenever I’ve gone to use Netflix after I’ve broken up with someone they’ve taken off their password by the next day. In fact, there was one guy- bastard that he was, that’s how I found out he was breaking up with me! He had already logged out of the account on my phone and when I mentioned it he said it was over. I wouldn’t mind, it was just after we’d y’know, and I wanted to show him something that reminded me of him and h-“

“You don’t have your own account?” Geralt interrupted him as he joined Jaskier on the sofa, keeping to one end. He placed the drink on the coffee table, an equal distance between the two of them.

“No. Convinced myself it’s an ‘unnecessary expenditure’,” he curved his fingers to put the words in inverted commas and rolled his eyes at his past self’s responsibility. “It’s annoying because there are a few original things on there that I kinda really want to watch bu-“

“Give me your phone.”

Jaskier blinked. To anyone else, he would have flat out refused and looked at them like they were crazy. But Geralt had asked for it so outright that before Jaskier even realised what he was doing, he had fished out his phone from his back pocket, unlocked it and handed it over. He did not even peer over to see what exactly Geralt was doing, tapping away at the screen that was obscured from his view.

Geralt handed the phone back over, locked.

It was accepted, of course, after an initial skeptical hesitation. “What did you do? Change the language? Lock me out?”

“If you were that paranoid, why didn’t you stop me?”

Jaskier just stared at him and Geralt let out a small sigh.

“I put my account on your phone.”

The way Jaskier’s eyes widened at the information, Geralt thought he had done something wrong.

“Geralt, I ca- why the hell would you even do that?”

“The plan is for multiple screens. Yen uses the account but I rarely do. Someone may as well make use of it.” He made it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, but Geralt I can’t use it knowing you’re both paying f-“

“I pay for the account,” which was true, they had never got round to changing it round and did not really see any point. Geralt had always been fine with paying. It was not exactly that much of a dent in his pay check. “It’s fine,” he paired his final words with a look that warned Jaskier not to contend with his decision.

So Jaskier swallowed, looking at the blank screen of his phone for a few moments before putting it on the coffee table. “Thank you, Geralt.” Though he could not help but wonder how long the account would remain on there.

He was not so obvious in hiding that thought either, as Geralt could guess what was on his mind just by his expression. He elbowed Jaskier and handed him the remote. “Just make sure you watch stuff under your name. Can’t have you messing up mine with a bunch of awful autogenerated recommendations.”

Jaskier lightened up enough to scoff and accepted the remote to begin setting up a profile. Geralt and Yennefer’s ones were still set to the boring default images, but Jaskier handpicked a flower from all of the options for his own image, because of course he did.

“Are you not going to try your drink after I slaved away over it?”

“Oh yes, how rude of me. Sounded like you really put your blood, sweat and tears in to it back there,” he smirked as he leant forward to pick it up.

“That’s why they call it a Blood, Sweat and Tears. Or an Old Fashioned, depends on the pronunciation.”

Jaskier took a sip and _moaned_ actually _moaned_ as his eyes fluttered shut in bliss. Geralt forced down the feeling that the sound actually did something to him; there was definitely not a growing warmth in his stomach.

“I think I would pronounce it as ‘Holy shit, this is better than any drink I have ever had before'. Best drink of the night, Geralt, thank you.” He grinned at the man, who just rolled his eyes slightly in response, but tried to hide a slight smile. “Now, what shall we watch?"

They spent about half an hour or so scrolling through the list of films, trying to decide on one that they both might actually enjoy. Or at this point, even just tolerate. Jaskier had already yawned twice.

“At this rate we’ll be searching for something longer than we’re watching it.”

“Oh, this is a good one, what about-“

Geralt frowned, “Isn’t that the one that’s-“

“Oh, yep!” Jaskier squeaked and immediately scrolled about ten options down, remembering that it would probably be frightfully awkward to watch that sort of film with Geralt sitting right next to him. He clicked through some more films and sighed, annoyed that he had seen the same titles about fifteen times now. “Okay, how about a series instead?”

“Shorter then a film.” _Less torture time._

“Yes, that’s totally why I suggested it,” he rolled his eyes. “I think I might know something good,” he typed something in to the search box, “If you liked The Shape of Water, you should like this…”

Geralt rolled his eyes.

Halfway through the third episode, Geralt felt a light weight on his shoulder and what he thought may have been Jaskier’s hand asking if they could call it a night, turned out to be Jaskier’s head deciding for them both that the night had well and truly ended.

Though he opened his mouth to say something, Geralt stopped himself and carefully tried to relax back on to the sofa again, trying not to jostle Jaskier too much. Another episode could not hurt. Jaskier had already seen it before so it did not matter much that he was missing it. Plus Geralt was not exactly one for visibly reacting to whatever form of media he watched, so jaskier was not missing that either. Besides, Geralt was actually sort of enjoying it. He could not remember the last time he had sat down to watch TV, or Netflix for that matter.

Half an hour later, just before the credits rolled, there was a loud explosion on the screen which woke Jaskier up with a start. “Wh- Oh good lord,” he scrunched his eyes shut and rubbed at them with his fists, eyes trying to adjust to the light of the screen too fast. “Ugh, did I fall asleep?” he felt Geralt nod before he realised that he was leaning on the man, “Oh… uh, sorry. Ha,” he quickly sat back up straight before slowly letting himself tip over on to his other side to lay down, letting the tiredness anchor him to the sofa. “You should have just pushed me off,” though he would be lying if he said there was not a ball of warmth in his chest at the fact that Geralt had let him sleep undisturbed. “Sorry if I drooled on you again.”

“Go get ready for bed and I’ll make the sofa up for you.”

“Can I-“ his words were interrupted by a long, wide yawn which he blinked away for a few moments before continuing, “Use the shower?”

Geralt got up and offered Jaskier a hand, not to be helpful, but because he suspected if he did not, Jaskier would fall back to sleep the second he turned his back. “Doesn’t work in that bathroom,” he nodded towards one of the doors, “Yen tried to put one of those filter things on it and it broke and we never got round to fixing it. Use the one in the en suite.”

“Of course there’s an en suite,” Jaskier accepted the offered hand with another yawn.

“Where did I think I went when I had my shower? To stick my head out of the water and wait for it to rain?”

Jaskier just grinned at him and picked up his bag to take it with him in to the bedroom. He could not quite manage walking in a straight line. “Of course, if you want to jo-“

“Hurry up, I want to go to bed.” Geralt heard a chuckle as Jaskier closed the bedroom door behind him.

You would not exactly get much of a pat on the back for guessing that Jaskier would take quite a while to get ready for anything. Even for bed. Geralt guessed it quite easily and decided to busy himself by cleaning up the glasses. He liked the cleaning aspect of his job, he found it quite relaxing. He gathered the glasses up and took them to the sink and as he washed, he found Jaskier’s song from earlier sneaking in to his head. Nearly hummed it too, but he stopped himself. _You are not getting in to my head._

After the glasses where clean and dried, Geralt thought that he had better make a start on converting the sofa in to a make shift bed and he manoeuvred the pieces in to something that should hopefully be decent enough to sleep on. It was when he remembered where Yennefer stored the blankets in the bedroom that Geralt realised he had not actually heard any water running through the pipes. Even when he got closer to the bedroom, he could not hear any movement.

“Have you-“ Geralt cut himself off with an exasperated sigh as he opened the door to the bedroom. There, sleeping sound amongst the pillows on his bed, was Jaskier. Bone dry. Fully clothed too, thank God.

Jaskier had taken one look at the bed and had decided that it looked far too comfortable and fancy for him not to try out. Call him Goldilocks. Five seconds would not hurt and then he would go and shower. Five seconds turned in to five minutes and then five minutes turned in to passing out.

 _You are lucky I am too tired for an argument_ , Geralt thought to himself as he quietly crossed the room to the bed, trying not to make too much noise with the floorboards. It was definitely not because he thought the man looked sort of annoyingly innocent curled up with his mouth hanging open ever so slightly in his slumber. He would not think that he looked sweet. Too annoying to be sweet. Annoyed. He felt annoyed, he reminded himself as he folded the half of the duvet Jaskier was not lying on over the top of him, like some sort of bedding calzone.

Now apparently banished to sleep on the sofa himself, Geralt grabbed a couple of blankets from a drawer before he left a room. He stole one last look at the passed out figure on the bed, watching as Jaskier nestled deeper in to the pillows and made a small noise of contentment.

Geralt sighed again.

“You definitely owe me some bread.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> although i had a bunch of fun with this chapter there was a lot i was not entirely happy with you i may pop back to edit this in future  
> she says like she is not the biggest procrastinator  
> anyway would you look at that this chapter is h o o g e considering i only ever expected to write about 2000 words per chapter im quite chuffed and i managed to finish it on time yay me  
> anyway im back in my office as of this week so i have less time to write which i know i keep saying but if i say it it might motivate me to kick my butt in to gear yknow i have a horrific time motivating myself  
> BUT  
> all of your adorable comments are very helpful and you would not believe how much i smile when i see the kudos count go up or a message in my inbox  
> support your writers yo
> 
> Jaskier's shirt from the chapter: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/843721311429785899/?nic_v1=1aXtverKQxiMDhEf5z65x%2B2Vm83nTRt8Yv28rlfvxHJ9NZ%2FUorZ2UVuaskzVk2pQP1
> 
> Song referenced: Marbles by The Amazing Devil


	7. I’ve looked him up. He’s annoyingly good. -Y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What would you like to be called?”  
> “I’ll be called anything you want."  
> “‘Egotistical bastard’, got it.”

“I’ve finally figured out what your shirt reminds me of.”

They had been sitting in their comfortable silence for some time; Geralt watching the road remembering the way by heart and Jaskier watching the raindrops race their way across the passenger side window. He had used his finger to trace their pas de deux across the glass, but when Geralt noticed this he bluntly asked him to stop getting grimy marks over the window otherwise he would threaten to make him clean the whole car at their next service stop. 

“Boyfriend material.”

Confused, Geralt frowned and stole a glance over at Jaskier as he took a turning. “What?”

“Sorry, wrong set up for that joke. What does it remind you of?”

The frown was replaced by a slight smirk. “The moss that grows on trees.”

Jaskier’s mouth fell open to be horrified at the comment, but then he looked down at his shirt and yeah, he could not deny it was pretty moss-like.

“You mossed be mistaken,” he snorted at his own joke.

“How many strikes is that now? One more and you’re out in the rain.” The second threat of the day.

“I did not know you were in to baseball. I guess I can see you pitching something,” he snorted again, his inner child revelling in it.

“Two and a half.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, I’m sure it’s bigger than- Pull the car over!”

“What’s wrong?” Geralt immediately snapped in to action, quickly checking the rearview mirror to see if it was safe to swerve over to the curb. He hit the breaks and swivelled round in his seat to check over Jaskier. “Are you okay? Do you feel sick?” Without taking his eyes off of Jaskier, he reached behind himself to press the button to open Jaskier’s window to let some air in to the car. And for the man to stick his head outside if he was going to vomit.

“Look!”

Geralt frowned when he could not see anything of particular interest in the rearview mirror despite Jaskier’s insistent pointing. “Do not tell me that I pulled the car over because you saw another dog because I mean it, I’ll leave you with them this time.”

“What? No-“ Jaskier checked the mirror again and choked back a coo when he spotted the dog Geralt had mistaken his excitement for. He turned round in his chair and redirected his pointing out of the back window. “Okay, so it was backwards in the mirror but _now_ look.”

A blackboard sign standing outside of a pub.

“‘Musician showcase competition’…,” Geralt’s nose scrunched as he turned back to Jaskier, “Not very catchy, is it?”

“No, but the two hundred and fifty pound prize certainly is. Geralt, come on, I could win that playing my guitar behind my back.”

“Huh… Somebody’s suddenly very confident in their skills.”

It was already early afternoon by the time they were both ready to leave the apartment. Geralt had let Jaskier sleep in, not to be nice, of course, but to get the alcohol out of Jaskier’s system and lessen the possibility of the man throwing up in the car. Being the more sensible one of the two of them, Geralt had decided to go to the toilet before they left and when he returned, he found Jaskier sitting on the sofa, chewing his lip and staring at his phone. A drafted email on the screen. Geralt gave him an ultimatum: Send the damn email with the link to his social media accounts to Yennefer right that moment or he would leave him there in London and take the guitar with him. And they were both in Folkestone now, so…

“Darling, I was always confident in my skills, just not confident _enough_. Besides, you said we could stop somewhere and get something to eat. This place does good food, I tried it when I came here for my tour . You can’t even try to tell me you’re not hungry because I heard your stomach rumble about twenty minutes ago.”

“Get out.”

“Wh-Geralt? Come on, I just thought it would be fun. Don’t kick me out n-“

“Get out and see if they’re busy.”

“Oh.” With a small, embarrassed nod and reassurance from Geralt that he would drive round to the carpark and wait there, Jaskier got out of Roach and hunched his jacket over his head to protect himself from the rain.

No more than half a minute later, Jaskier was coming back out of the pub and running round to the carpark to flag Geralt down before darting back in to the warmth. Geralt had already been getting out of the car. Armed with an umbrella and Jaskier’s guitar.

“And here’s the number two for the table for two,” Jaskier beamed at the waitress and gestured towards Geralt after he took off his sodden jacket.

The waitress took one look at Geralt as she picked up the menus and nodded. “Mhmm, come with me, I have just the spot.”

The spot turned out to be in the far, dimly lit corner of the pub, away from most of the rowdier clientele. Geralt appreciated that she could tell he preferred somewhere more quiet, though she probably picked it knowing that some bigger-than-their-boots drunkard would think they were strong enough to pick a fight with him and she would like to save any glassware from being destroyed.

“Here are your menus,” she put them on the table in front of them as the men sat on surprisingly comfortable wooden chairs. “Can I get you two anything to drink?”

“Water. Please,” Geralt asked politely, fully intending to remain sober enough so that he could carry on driving after Jaskier had had his performing need filled.

“Better make that two. Can’t dehydrate my vocal chords too much for my performance.”

“Oh, cool! Are you entering the competition?”

Jaskier patted Toruviel fondly. “Indeed I am. It was such a pleasure to perform here last time that I thought I’d come back.”

“I knew I recognised you!” The waitress beamed, rather proud of herself. She popped her notebook back in to her pocket. “Well, on behalf of us all here at The New Port, welcome back. The sign up sheet for the competition is over there with Adrianna,” she pointed over to a rather unimpressed looking woman sitting on a stool at the end of the bar, “I’ll go get your waters and take your food orders in a bit.”

Jaskier chuckled to himself as she walked away from their table. “I feel like I’m sixteen again and signing up for the school play. Did you ever try out for plays, Geralt?”

Geralt gave him a look.

“Oh yes, my mistake. You certainly don’t audition. Casting directors seek you out and beg for you to be in their shows,” he stood back up and draped his jacket over his chair, “Come on, lets go sign me up to win.”

Geralt rolled his eyes as he stood up and followed Jaskier over to where Adrianna was sitting.

“Hello, I’d like to sign-“

“What would you like to be called?” She cut him off without looking up from the clipboard.

The waitress butted in and passed two glasses of water over the bar. Geralt accepted them both and handed one to Jaskier.

“I’ll be called anything you want,” Jaskier gave her his best charming smile, paired with a flirtatious wink and rested his elbow on the bar for a suave lean. He did not miss for once.

The woman looked him up and down and began to scrawl on her clipboard. “‘Egotistical bastard’, got it.”

Geralt snorted in to his glass and caught some of the water dripping down his chin with the back of his hand. “Oh, I like her.”

With a glare directed towards Geralt and a light slap to the man’s stomach, Jaskier gave his proper answer. “Jaskier. The names Jaskier.”

“Jaskier? What? You going for some kind of Hozier vibe?”

“I wish,” he muttered under his breath.

“He wishes,” Geralt said at the exact same time.

Adrianna smirked at Geralt before turning her less impressed attention back to Jaskier. “No, I remember you. You were here to perform the other month, weren’t you?” She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Didn’t you sleep with-“

“Probably,” Geralt interrupted her to save himself from having to hear evidence of another of Jaskier’s escapades. The last thing he needed was for some jilted lover to come barging in threatening to end Jaskier’s life and for Geralt to have enough context to let it happen.

“Anyway, sign up fee’s ten pounds,” she held out her hand expectantly, using her other one to scribble something else down on the clipboard.

“Uh….” Jaskier patted himself down to no avail before looking up to Geralt with wide eyes, “Geralt?”

“Oh, so now you conveniently do not have any change on you?” Another roll of his eyes and Geralt took out the ten pound note that was hidden away in the back of his phone. It had been so long since he had needed it that he could not even remember why it was even there in the first place.

Adrianna took the note from him and put it in to her back pocket which made Jaskier question the truth in the sign up fee, but he thought better than to ask because she did not seem particularly fond of him. “You get seven minutes to perform and you are the last slot of the night. Show starts at seven,” she tried to wave him off to get him to leave her alone.

“Who’s that cheerful chap over there?” Jaskier nodded back to the other end of the bar, where the waitress they had spoken to earlier was stood talking to a man whose face looked like it had not cracked a smile in decades, if not at all.

“That’s Meryasek. He’s the owner,” she pointed to the wall of rather old looking photographs behind her and both Geralt and Jaskier passed her to take a look as she continued. “Years ago he used to be a fisherman in Cornwall. Just after the war he was out on his boat doing some checks and he rescued a drowning girl. They fell in love and understandably the girls dad was mega thankful that he saved her life and apparently stupid rich so this pub was their wedding present. It’s all there on the wall, knock yourself out.”

Geralt could understand the nautical decor to the pub now. Boats, anchors, fish, nets hanging from the ceiling… He wondered if Meryasek had decorated himself or whether it had been gifted like this. The wall of photographs was a sweet personal touch that had obviously been added over the years as the frames got more and more modern. There were pictures of a very young Meryasek during the war, pictures of him out fishing, him outside of the pub. Pictures of him smiling. There were two newspaper cut outs too: one with the headline ‘Seaman Saves Helpless Heiress’ and a wedding announcement dated just after a year later.

“That is bloody adorable. I bet he brought her up on to the boat and gave her CPR and when she opened her eyes he said ‘Well that’s one way to take my breath away’.”

Geralt’s eyes flicked briefly from the wall to Jaskier as he smiled slightly. It seemed as though the man apparently had a thing for water based romance.

As Jaskier placed his hand on his heart with fluttering, heartstruck eyes, Adrianna prodded him with the end of her pen.“Just don’t ask him about it. She died three years ago and his mind’s been deteriorating since. He gets upset when he can’t remember things.”

Geralt decided upon learning that, it was probably safer to drag Jaskier away now. He could already see the tears welling up in the man’s eyes and the cogs whirring in his brain trying to decide if giving the pub’s landlord a hug was worth the risk.

“Keep an eye on your boyfriend,” the look she gave Geralt told him that she serious about the warning, “I can tell he’s already thinking about going over there to hug him or something out of pity.”

 _Oh, she is good._ “We’re not together-“ Geralt tried to set the record straight as he let go of Jaskier’s arm.

But Jaskier yanked his arm away at the same time. “He wishes we were.”

Adrianna noted Geralt’s roll of his eyes and smiled slyly, “Well in that case, I’ll be here all night. You know where to find me.”

The pair walked back to their table and both picked up their menus at the exact same time.

Geralt quirked a brow, his eyes just about peering over the top of the card to look at Jaskier’s face. “Not going to tell me to go back and get her number?”

“No. I got a strong vibe that she did not like me so she clearly has poor taste.” He did seem rather unfazed by it.

“Rude.”

“No I didn’t mean choosing you over me was in poor taste, I just meant that she obviously has a terrible judge of character.”

“Again, rude.”

Jaskier had been exposed to Geralt long enough now that despite the rarity of such occasions, he could tell when the man was not actually bothered by something and was infact smirking when he said it. And he could tell without even looking up from the menu. Which he promptly put down. “I don’t know why I’m even bothering to look at this when I already know what I’m having.” Geralt did not say anything in response, but Jaskier took the silence as an invitation to inform him. “The burger was amazing here last time. One of the best burgers I have ever eaten. What are you going to get?”

“Probably the seafood pasta.”

“Seafood pasta? No!”

“It’s a seaside town. Seafood is usually better by the coast, so I’d like to make the most of it.”

Jaskier put his elbow on the table and rested his cheek on his hand. “You don’t really strike me as a seafood type person.”

“I’m not going to ask into what you think constitutes to the look for a seafood person.”

“Probably best not to. I still think you should get the burger. Trust me, it’s really good!”

Geralt’s eyes flicked back to the part of the menu that listed the burger and although it did sound good… “‘Comes with chips or the lighter option of a salad’… You want me to get the chips version so that you can get the salad version and steal some of mine.”

“What? No! I just really think you’ll like it. When have my food and drink choices ever been wrong, Geralt? The coffee, the marshmallows, the risotto… Friends trust each others choice in food.”

“Good job we’re not friends then.”

The waitress came back to their table, notebook in hand ready to take their order with a smile as sweet as ever. “What can I get you?”

“Sea-“

“Two burgers. One with salad and one with chips.”

“Perfect. I’ll go get those sorted for you.”

Geralt tilted his head to the side slightly after she left and looked at Jaskier.

Jaskier just batted his stupidly long eyelashes at him, trying to look as if butter would not melt. “I’ve got to stay light if I want to perform well. But on the other hand I really fancied a chip.”

“You can have one chip.”

“Deal.”

Jaskier had five chips. Seven if you count the two Geralt pretended he did not see Jaskier steal when the man diverted his attention to some other part of the pub.

And Geralt could agree: it was a damn good burger. Though a small part of him (which he promptly ignored) wondered if Jaskier could cook a better one.

“So what are you planning on performing?” Geralt asked as he pushed away his clean plate.

“Oh. Shit.”

“Huh, I thought you were getting more confident about your songs-“

“No, I am, I am,” he held up his hand slightly to get Geralt to stop the thought, “It’s not that, I just…” he trailed off and began to tap at the table, staring at unlit tea light next to the salt and pepper shakers.

Geralt waited for Jaskier to continue and when he did not, he tried to fill in the gaps himself. “You just… don’t know what to sing.”

Jaskier looked back over to him with a meek smile and nodded.

“You know, most people would enter in to music competitions with a performance in mind. In fact, I would feel confident in saying all bar one person.”

“A safe bet there.” Jaskier choked out a laugh, appreciating Geralt trying to find the humour in the situation. “I was here not that long ago and did my latest album. And a couple of older songs so I can’t do any of those and I…” he rubbed the back of his neck with a frown. “Oh this was a mistake.”

“Hey,” Geralt stuck his fingertips in to his water and flicked some of it at Jaskier to try and snap him out of the spiral, “You’re not wasting my tenner.”

Jaskier wiped the water from his face using the back of his hand, donning a frown that turned in to a smile when he looked at Geralt again, knowing he had not done it to annoy him. “Good job I’m going last then.”

Just as Geralt got out his phone to check the time, the lights dimmed ever so slightly and feedback from a plugged in microphone quietened the conversations in the room. The waitress that had been serving them came over to their table to light the tea light and clear the plates.

“Romantic,” Jaskier chuckled and Geralt just huffed at it.

“Right, listen up because I’m only gonna say this once,” Adrianna spoke in to the microphone and tapped the top to get people’s attention. She was stood over on a very small stage made out of wooden pallets with a stool and a microphone stand atop it. “Good evening everybody and welcome to the third annual musician showcase. This year we have twenty acts in the running for the two hundred and fifty pound prize fund- pause for ‘ooh’.”

It was at that point Jaskier realised she was reading from her clipboard which might have accounted for her monotonous voice. He joined in with the rest of the pub as they went along with it.

“They each get seven minutes to perform, so roughly two songs- choose wisely. Andrea will come round between performances to offer you the chance to purchase tickets to vote for your favourite or favourites of the night. We’ll tally it up at the end and the performer with the most votes wins- Obviously, that’s how votes work, Andy,” Andrea mimed for her to carry on and Adrianna rolled her eyes. “And finally there will be an extra ten votes awarded to whoever earns the title of Meryasek’s favourite of the night. If he has one,” a couple of people in the pub chuckled at that but Jaskier just sat there biting his lip. “So good luck, don’t get stage fright and please, for all our sakes: nothing depressing-“

“Adrianna!” Andrea scalded her from across the pub as she cleared another table.

“What? It’s supposed to be a fun night!”

“They can sing whatever they want to.”

“Yeah, so long as it’s not depressing.” Andrea rolled her eyes but did not interrupt Adrianna again, so the woman continued. “First up is Leo. Come on up, and don’t disappoint.”

Throughout every act, Jaskier stole glances over to Meryasek who sat listening behind the bar, face unchanged. Jaskier’s stomach twisted. This was ridiculous, he never felt nervous before performances; he lived for performing, the rush, the inevitable applause. Not whatever feeling this was mixing around the burger in his stomach.

After the tenth performer, a quick ten minute break was announced to let people go to the toilet and get drinks and the like. Jaskier promptly excused himself to go to the toilet; he had to get rid of the two and a half pints of water he had downed already.

While Jaskier was otherwise occupied, the waitress, who they now knew was called Andrea, came over to the table with a book of tickets in hand. Geralt purchased ten and put them in to his pocket.

There were other guitarists, singers, violinists, even a man in a one-man band get up. Again, Jaskier kept track of Merysek’s set in stone face. At this rate no-one would receive the ten vote advantage which was a little infuriating because the other acts were _good_.

At the end of the eighteenth musician’s performance, a sweet, middle-aged Elvis fan, Jaskier looked over to Meryasek once more and noticed Andrea placing a hand on his shoulder to give it a squeeze. He put his own hand on top of it.

And it hit him.

“Give me the keys.”

Geralt frowned as he swivelled round in his chair to look at Jaskier. “You are not leaving this now. You’re up after this next one.”

Jaskier held out his hand towards him. “Trust me.”

Geralt stared him down for a few moments, narrowing his eyes but ultimately took the keys out of his pocket and handed them over to Jaskier who in return, shoved his guitar in to Geralt’s lap.

“Look after Toruviel for me!” came the harsh whisper before he darted off.

“Hey, take the umbrella-“ Geralt tried to call after him, but Jaskier was already out the door.

Despite the announcement of the penultimate act, another violinist, Geralt kept his eyes glued to the doors that Jaskier had left though, waiting for the man to return. He could hear others around him reacting to the performance and applause as it finished, but Geralt’s knuckles just turned white as he gripped the guitar in anticipation. _Hurry up, you fuck._

“And the last entry for tonight is- oh hang on, I should have crossed that name out. Back for an encore after he performed here in June, it’s Jaskier!” The announcement gave way to an excited applause and Geralt even made out some voices in the crowd that seemed to recognise the name and get even more excited. Whereas Geralt felt his chest tighten as he finally let his eyes stray from the door to look over to Adrianna who was mouthing something across the pub to the Andrea who just shrugged back. “Uh, Jaskier? Little late on the cue if you wanted a dramatic entr-“

The doors to the pub swung open and all eyes were immediately drawn to the figure coming in from the pouring rain. Including Geralt’s. But Geralt’s went wide.

There Jaskier stood, wearing a billowy white shirt with bishop sleeves, tucked in to a pair of brown trousers, braces and boots. His shirt clung to him in places where the rain had soaked through and his hair stuck to his forehead and dripped down his face only helping to further smudge the black eyeliner that looked as if it had been applied with a fist. It made his eyes look even more impossibly blue.

Jaskier grinned. “So who’s ready for round two?”

Whispers broke throughout the pub once more as he confidently strode back over to his table.

“Thank’s for looking after her for me,” Jaskier winked as he took his guitar back from Geralt whose mouth was now certainly a lot drier than Jaskier’s clothes.

The whispers in the pub fell silent when Jaskier took to the stage and cleared his throat. He looked up from the pallet floor to all of the eyes staring at him. And smiled.

“ _In South Australia I was born_

_Heave away, haul away_

_In South Australia, 'round Cape Horn,_

_We're bound for South Australia._ ”

He paused momentarily after the first verse. “Come on, don’t be shy, I know you guys know this one. Do your town proud, join in!”

Geralt looked over to Meryasek. The man’s mouth was hanging open ever so slightly.

_“Haul away your rolling king_

_Heave away, haul away_

_Haul away, you'll hear me sing_

_We're bound for South Australia.”_

Still silence. Jaskier rolled his eyes and continued.

_“As I went out one morning fair_

_Heave away, haul away_

_Haul away, you'll hear me sing-“_

_“We're bound for South Australia!”_

Everyone in the pub turned round to see Meryasek on his feet and even Andrea, who was still standing next to him, looked gobsmacked. “He asked you all to join in,” he waved his hand, “So join in!”

Jaskier beamed from ear to ear and carried on singing. By the end of the song, every single person in the pub was joining in. Excluding Geralt, of course, but nobody who knew him would ever expect him to sing. He just sat there, admiring the performance.

“See, I knew you all had it in you. What about this one, hmm?

“ _I thought I heard the First Mate say  
John Kanaka naka, tulai e_

_You’ll work tomorrow, but not today  
John Kanaka naka, tulai e.”_

On the start of the second verse, he hopped down from the stage and began to make his way around the tables and just as before, the pub sang with him, raising their glasses as he passed them.

_“I thought I heard the old man say  
John Kanaka naka, tulai e_

_Today, today is a sailing day  
John Kanaka naka, tulai e.”_

Even Meryasek raised his pint. Jaskier nodded to acknowledge it, so beyond pleased.

_“I thought I heard the Bosun say  
John Kanaka naka, tulai e_

_It’s one more pull and then belay  
John Kanaka naka, tulai e!”_

As he finished the final line of the song, Jaskier came to a stop in front of his and Geralt’s table and gave the man another wink. With a slight turn on the balls of his feet, he went to sit down on the edge of the table, but miscalculated the distance and lost his balance, landing on Geralt’s lap instead. Geralt’s hand immediately went to the small of Jaskier’s back to help steady him. The touch, though still electric, sent less of a bolt than before and more of a welcomed buzz up Jaskier’s spine.

He smiled, appreciating the help before turning his attention back to his adoring public. “Would you believe I haven’t had a lick of drink tonight?” They laughed with him as he raised his pint of water before taking a quick gulp and putting it back on the table. He lowered his voice slightly to talk to Geralt, “You know, you can join in at anytime, Geralt.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Geralt smirked and seeming against his will, his eyes flicked to Jaskier’s lips.

They twitched to return the smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling, need it to sing.” He patted the side of Geralt’s thigh to thank him for the temporary seat and threw himself back in to the competition. “Let’s see… Where’s the youngest member of the audience?” A couple of kids in their late teens piped up, “Ah, good, because this family party favourite comes with an age rating…”

_“Oh fishmonger, oh fishmonger_

_Come quell your daughter's hunger_

_To pull on my horn_

_As it rises in the morn_

_For 'tis naught, but bad luck_

_To fuck with a puck_

_Lest your grandkid be born_

_A hairy young faun_

_Bleating and braying all day, hey ho!”_

The audience clapped along enthusiastically with the song and laughed but as soon as it was over a cry broke from the crowd, “Another!” Followed by various other calls agreeing with them.

“Hey now, you’re all _very_ sweet but I think I’ve already reached my limit with those three, right?” he looked over to Adrianna for an answer, who in turn, looked over at Meryasek.

Just as the man was opening his mouth to speak, someone else in the audience shouted, “Encore!”

Meryasek did not look too impressed by the interruption, but still addressed the pub. “Any objections?”

Silence.

Meryasek gestured for Jaskier to continue, who nodded to accept the invitation.

“Okay, okay, bless your souls,” Jaskier racked his brain for a brief moment. He did not know any other shanties well enough, but he just needed something else that people could sing along to. “Alright, let’s see how you get on with this one.”

_“When a humble bard_

_Graced a ride along_

_With Geralt of Rivia-”_

Geralt froze. _Did he just_ …?

_“Along came this song…”_

As he had hoped, the pub caught on quickly to the lyrics and joined in with as much vigour as they had with the other songs. Jaskier was actually sort of surprised how well they had caught on to it considering he had only just finished writing it in the very second before he started performing and it was the first time anybody other than himself had heard it. Meryasek sat this one out, but still had a smile on his face.

_“Toss a coin to your Witcher_

_A friend of humanity!”_

People practically screamed the final line of the song along with Jaskier, who had managed to hop up just in time on the stage to finish the song with a last strum of his guitar and took a low bow. The pub roared with applause, hands either cracking with claps or thumping against tables to make a louder noise as feet stamped to make it even more deafening.

The first thing Jaskier did as he righted himself from his bow was look over to Geralt. The man was not smiling exactly but staring at him with a look Jaskier could not quite place, but he had never seen him give. And despite not knowing exactly what it was, what he did know was that prize money or no prize money, it was worth it for how Geralt looked at him.

Adrianna joined him on stage and waved her hands to try and calm everyone down before grabbing the microphone that Jaskier had neglected to use for his performance. “Alright, alright, that’s enough, calm down. Final act- and then some -” she frowned at Jaskier who just gave her a guilty grin as someone in the pub gave a shrill whistle in support, “Is over. We’ll come round- well, I won’t. Andrea will come round to all of your tables and collect your tickets and we’ll take a minute to tally them up before we announce the result. So please get your tickets ready, I don’t want to be here all night, it’s late.”

Jaskier made his way through the tables, throwing thanks after thanks as people congratulated him on his performance and patted him on the back. He slipped in to his seat opposite Geralt, deciding against pushing his luck and sitting on the man’s lap again, accidentally or not. “Judging by the fact that every time I looked over to you, you were watching, I bet you regret not paying better attention to my performance the night we first met, no? If all goes well you’ll soon have to pay for the pleasure.”

Geralt just continued to stare at him, his face pulled in to a slight smile.

And of course, Jaskier took that as a sign that Geralt did not believe him. He rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine, maybe you’ll get a friends and family discount, but only because you introduced me to Yennefer and only if you will actually accept that we’ve been in each other’s company long enough to transition to the title of ‘friends’ now.”

“You used my name in a song.”

Geralt did not look particularly annoyed by that fact at all, but Jaskier still felt a little bit awkward about it. “Ah, yeah…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “When I was writing it, it was missing a name and I couldn’t think of one that sort of sounded… right for the character? And then your name popped in to my head just before I started singing it and it fit so I thought- I mean I can take the name out-“

“You wrote my name in to a song.”

“I… yes? Like I said I can-“

The smile grew a fraction in to a smirk. “And you performed that song.”

“Geralt are you having a stroke?” Jaskier actually looked concerned for a moment.

But Geralt just leant forward, resting his forearms on the table and continued pushing for eye contact. “You wrote my name in to a song that you also wrote and performed to a room full of people.”

“Geralt I- oh…” Jaskier’s eyes went wide. _Oh shit._

Geralt’s expression softened now that the penny had dropped across the table. “People who enjoyed it.”

“I-I think they did?”

“Jaskier, listen…” Geralt relaxed back it to his chair and gestured to the people around them. Amongst the general chatter in the pub, there were people still singing the chorus lyrics to the song, laughing and discussing praises for it.

Jaskier eyes began to well up as he took it all in and tried to stop himself from bawling by looking back to Geralt with a pinched smile. “Thank you, Geralt-“

“Why would yo-“

“-For stopping the car and letting me do this. I needed it. I think I’m ready to send her my original songs. I mean, when I get back from Poland. I’d need to record a few first.”

Geralt was taken aback slightly by his reaction to this. It almost felt as if someone had a grip around his heart. Pride. He felt proud of Jaskier. The man he had only just met a few days ago.“You looked so happy.”

Jaskier chuckled ever so quietly before locking eyes with him. “I am.”

“Jaskier…”

“Geralt?” a gentle push.

Geralt swallowed and looked at the ring of water on the table from where Jaskier had moved his glass. “I-“

“Hey, can I collect your votes please?” Andrea stood in front of their table holding a box full of tickets.

“Oh shoot, I must have missed you when you came round with the tick-“

Geralt took his tickets out of his pocket and slid five across the table to Jaskier.

“Oh… thank you,” he ignored the fact that Geralt had not only bought a ticket, but bought _ten_ of them and dug two pens out of his guitar case, offering one over to Geralt so that they could write down their votes. “So sorry for the wait, hopefully you can read my writing,” he apologised as he handed his tickets over to Andrea. Even when rushed, Jaskier’s handwriting was flawless.

“That’s fine, don’t worry about her,” she nodded in the direction of Adrianna, “She hasn’t got to wake up until twelve tomorrow, she can handle it. Just gets a bit cranky when her eight hours are threatened.”

“Don’t we all!” They laughed for a moment together before she congratulated Jaskier on his performance and excused herself to go back behind the bar to count up all the votes.

“You took a long time writing yours out,” Geralt noted after she left, abandoning the conversation he had nearly started before the interruption.

Jaskier had already forgotten and was happy to move on to this. “Hmm? Oh yeah, hah,” he chuckled as he put his guitar back in to it’s case, “Because I was ner-“ he paused and corrected himself, “Because I was trying so hard to think of a plan for what to do, I didn’t really pay as much attention to the announcements as I should have, so I had to dig deep to remember the names of who I wanted to vote for.”

Geralt blinked. “You didn’t just vote for yourself five times?”

“Huh? No, of course not. That’s not fair. The others were good too. Actually I kind of struggled to narrow it down to five.”

 _Oh_ , Geralt thought, _that is sweet._ “I can guarantee that everyone else who performed tonight voted for themselves.”

“Then that’s their deal,” Jaskier shrugged, not really bothered by a rigged game, the fates would decide whatever they wanted. “Why, who did you vote for?”

“Five different people. Can’t remember the names I picked.” Two lies.

“Same,” Jaskier chuckled, oblivious.

Geralt decided to change the subject to avoid Jaskier digging any deeper. “So that song…”

“You want to know what it’s about, don’t you?” he grinned.

Geralt nodded.

“Have you ever played Dungeons and Dragons?”

Geralt just gave him a look.

“You look at me like that to say that it’s quite obvious that you haven’t, but thanks to that look I also now know that you at least know what Dungeons and Dragons is,” he looked smug and swirled the water his pint glass.

“‘Do you know what Dungeons and Dragons is?’”

“Two birds, one stone, Geralt dear. Anyway, I was playing it one night with some friends and the idea just came to me. Essentially witchers are these people who go around hunting down monsters for people but they’re generally feared by most or people are just sort of disgusted by them and think _they’re_ a monster too because they have been mutated to give them advantages when fighting. This bard, the one who’s singing the song, comes across one of them one day and realises they’re not as scary as the stories make them out to be and thinks they might just be a bit misunderstood. So he writes this song to try and improve the witcher’s image, paint him to be the hero he truly is. And uh… I like to think it worked for them both-”

“So you named a feared a misunderstood monster hunter after me?”

Jaskier ignored Geralt, still too caught up in his story. “I like to think they started off on the wrong foot, like the witcher was dubious at first because who had ever seen a witcher in a good light before? Why should he trust someone who thinks he’s better than the names he had been called for years. But eventually trust is formed and the bard travels with him on his hunts and writes more songs and soon they both become famous and the bard becomes known as ‘The Witcher’s Bard’ and the witcher becomes known as ‘The Bard’s Witcher’ and then feelings develop between them and everyone paints witchers to be these beings incapable of emotion, but the bard is the first to make the unfeeling feel and they struggle with their emotions at first, the witcher more so, but then, in the end, they fall hopelessly in love and ride off in to the sunset on the back of a horse. Probably to somewhere along the coast.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought in to this,” Geralt held back a fond smile ad he listened to the man passionately ramble on and quirked a skeptical brow instead.

“Yep,” Jaskier beamed, “I think I might write a whole series of songs about them, to tell their tale. Might make a good album, no? Not quite sure what Yennefer would make of it though, she doesn’t seem like the fantasy type.”

Geralt tilted his head from side to side and Jaskier pulled a disgusted face.

“Okay I know what you’re thinking of and I did _not_ need to know that about my hopeful future agent.”

They both laughed and nursed their drinks for a moment before Geralt was back to asking questions. How the tables had turned. “What made you think to perform all those songs?”

Jaskier glanced over to Meryasek who was helping Adrianna andAndrea count up the votes. “Comfort. People find comfort in the old, don’t they? That’s why there’s a whole wall of photographs over there. He was a fisherman, right? So what kind of music do fishermen like? Shanties. I thought bringing the past back to him for a moment might bring him a bit of comfort. I only know a couple that my grandfather taught me when I was younger and then the third song I sung used to be played at pretty much every family party I’ve attended and everyone used to join in. I ran out of songs after that one so I tried to think of another song that might have been simple enough for people to sing along to and lo and behold it worked.”

“It did.”

Jaskier smirked at him. “Go on then, which of my sensational songs was your favourite?”

Geralt fought back a laugh at the reminder of their first meeting. “Hard to decide when I did not listen to any of them.”

They laughed together again and waited for the results to be announced, passing the time by discussing the other competitors performances, both giving nothing by praise. As other people in the pub passed by their table, they clapped Jaskier on the shoulder to congratulate them.

Suddenly there was the sound of interference on the microphone and everyone turned to the stage. Adrianna was standing there in front of the microphone, clipboard still in hand, with Andrea next to her holding an envelope. One looked a damn sight more enthusiastic than the other and Jaskier wondered who had chosen Adrianna to do the announcing for tonight.

“The sooner you all listen up, the sooner we can get this over with and the sooner we can all go home. So, the moment you have all been waiting for. The winner is-“

Andrea quickly stuffed the envelope against Adrianna’s chest to stop her from announcing the result.

“What? Why do I need to use this? I already know who has won.”

“For theatrics, Addie, go on, humour me.”

If Jaskier was not mistaken, he could have sworn he saw a little colour flush to to Adrianna’s cheeks. “Fine,” she said with a roll of her eyes and took the envelope from her. “And the winner is…”

As she fumbled trying to open the envelope, people started to stamp their feet to create a loud drumroll effect, hyping up the result. She frowned when she eventually managed to get it out of the envelope and held up her hands, making it very clear that she would not say anything until they all shut up. They did. “Why, to everybody’s surprise, most of all mine because I definitely did not know before opening this envelope I hold in my hands here, the winner is Jaskier.”

The pub erupted in to applause, filled with claps and whistles and hollers and Adrianna nodded her head to gesture for Jaskier to join her up on the stage.

“What are you waiting for?” Geralt asked. Jaskier, to his amazement, looked utterly gobsmacked. The man was bloody talented; he could sing, play guitar incredibly and knew damn well how to work an audience, it should not have been a surprise to win.

Jaskier shook his head and replaced his surprise with a grin and jogged over to the stage. He was handed the envelope along with another one filled with the prize money.

“Right… well… that’s a bit nice, ain’t it?” The pub hollered again and Jaskier laughed, waiting for them to calm down and collected his words a bit better. “Thank you, honestly, thank you, there was some bloody talent up here, don’t you agree?” More hollering. “So you’re all very sweet for picking me, bless your souls. Uh, unless you didn’t vote for me then… smart choice?” They laughed. “Being a musician can be a little bit tough on the mind sometimes. Same goes for any artists of any mediums. You often find yourselves in these little spirals of self doubt and wonder if you’ll ever be good enough, or if people will even like your work. You can be really proud of something one moment and then the next your mind is telling you to scrap it. So support your local artists, you’ll never understand how much it will mean to them and how motivating it is to help them carry on whatever magic they are creating. Wow,” he rubbed the back of his neck with a small laugh, “I know that was sappy, but honestly I promise you I haven’t had a drink tonight.” More laughs. “So uh… thank you, bloody thank you and here’s to an avoided spiral- Geralt, raise my glass!”

Geralt did as he was told and the rest of the pub followed suit and called out a cry of “Here, here!”

“This would be the point where I would offer to sing another song, but I have a feeling my prize money would be taken away by a certain someone-“

“Y’damn right,” Adrianna crossed her arms, unimpressed with how long he was taking to wrap things up.

“Okay, Medusa, enough with that glare, yeesh. Okay well, thank you again, drink responsibly, drive safe and goodnight!” He handed the microphone back to Adrianna and the pub gave a round of applause again before she used the microphone to talk about something or other, but Jaskier could not here anything bar the buzzing in his ears. His smile only grew wider as he returned to Geralt who was now standing up, leaning against their table.

“So I guess congratulations are in order?”

Jaskier took another low bow, grin still in tact as he righted himself. “I believe I have earned the right to say ‘I told you so’.”

“Ah, no,” Geralt shook his head with a small smirk, “I don’t recall seeing you play your guitar behind your back at all during that performance.”

Jaskier returned the smirk. “I thought you said you weren’t watching.”

“Touché.”

Jaskier’s laughter faded when he noticed Meryasek begin to approach them. With the songs over, he was back to not smiling, so Jaskier stood up straight and nodded as he came to a stop in front of him. “Sir, lovely establishment here. It’s no wonder I wanted to return. Thank you so much for host-“

Meryasek held up a hand to silence him. “You did good kid. Thank you for what you did.” Praises sung, he turned to walk away again but stopped himself and looked back. “Your stage presence reminds me of my wife. She’s always the centre of attention in a room. Good thing she’s back in Cornwall at the moment otherwise you’d be outshined.”

“Come on, Dad, Addie wants to talk to you,” Andrea appeared by his side and took him gently by the arm to lead him away. “Congratulations again, Jaskier,” she called over he shoulder.

Jaskier clutched at his heart as she slowly turned back to Geralt, his expression crumpling.

“Don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it! I feel like my heart has stopped- has it stopped?” he grabbed Geralt’s hand and placed it over his still beating heart.

Geralt quickly wriggled out of the man’s grip and crossed his arms. “Touch my hand again and I’ll snap yours quicker than your can change chords.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Look, I thought we settled this. The majority of experienced guitar players and change chords tha-“

A commotion entering the pub cut the conversation short. A three burly men waltzed on in, as drunk as lords and seemingly on a mission. And they found their target in Jaskier. Geralt was too distracted by them to notice Jaskier’s eyes going as wide as a deer in headlights.

“Uh, Geralt, we’ve gotta go.”

Geralt frowned and glanced at the man beside him. The men had just entered so what on Earth could possibly be their problem with Jaskier. “What-?”

“You!” The obvious ringleader of the group pointed directly at Jaskier.

Jaskier choked out a small laugh as he darted around a table to try and put a bit more distance between him and and the man that was staggering towards them. “Uh, funny story-“ Geralt could tell it was not going to be.

“You fucked my fiancé!”

And there was the context.

“I think you must have me confused with somebody else, my friend,” he tried to diffuse the situation himself, but from the look that he gave Geralt, the accusation was unfortunately right.

“That’s definitely him, Cailan.” Cailan’s apparent right hand man nudged in to his side, trying to poke the bear.

Cailan pushed the table to jolt it forwards in to Jaskier who let out a pained puff of air. The movement sent a pint glass flying to the floor and it broke in to pieces.

“You fucked my fiancé and now I’m going to fuck your face.”

Jaskier could not help the fact that a small snort escaped him at the man’s mistake. “I mean thank you for the offer but-“

“Jaskier,” Geralt warned.

“He’s going to fuck your face _up_!” the right hand man quickly jumped in to correct his leader with a sneer.

Cailan moved the table again, this time sweeping it out of the way so that there was nothing in between them. Jaskier pressed himself up against a wall.

“Cailan, cut it out or I’ll chuck you out,” Adrianna shouted as she stepped out from behind the bar.

“I’d like to see you try, bitch.”

Adrianna immediately began to push up her sleeves, but Andrea grabbed her to hold her back.

“Look, Cailan, was it? I’m sorry, but it was an honest mistake!”

“Dick slip, did it?” he spat.

Geralt snorted but the second Cailan took another step towards Jaskier, he was between them.

“Escuse me.”

Cailan was slightly shorter than both Geralt and Jaskier, so he had to tilt his head up to look at them. His eyes narrowed in a knowing glare. “I know you. You’re the White Wolf, aren’t you? Who else would dye their hair such a stupid colour. Probably him,” he redirected his glare past Geralt and towards Jaskier, “What the fuck are you even dressed as? I don’t know how you managed to fuck my fiancé when you look like a fa-“

Geralt took a step closer to Cailan. “I wouldn’t call him that if I were you. I wouldn’t call anyone that.”

Jaskier came up behind Geralt and put a hand on his arm, trying to pull him back, but Geralt stood his ground. “Geralt, it’s okay, let’s just go, it’s fine.”

“Oh so you’d set your aggro pit bull on me, would you? Can’t fight your own battles so you’d send The Butcher out to deal with it?” he squared up in front of Geralt.

Jaskier could feel Geralt tense underneath his hand at the title and ignored his confusion about why it would effect him and why on Earth this man seemed to know Geralt and instead focused on fact that Geralt was seemingly getting ready for something. He just hoped it was not anything either of them would regret.

And it was at that moment that the jilted lover decided to try and throw a surprise punch directly toward’s Jaskier’s face. Before Jaskier even had a chance to flinch, Geralt was in-between them, deflecting the blow with a jab to Cailan’s wrist.

“Pit bull’s aren’t aggressive unless they are a product of their owner’s aggression. They have one of the best temperaments of all breeds until people fuck them up.”

Cailan, not there for a lesson, just yelled and redirected his attacks at Geralt instead, punch after punch, all of which were deflected with ease in a blur of limbs. The man may have been strong, but the alcohol made his movements sloppy and Geralt was no stranger to a fight.

“Go back in to retirement, you old bastard,” the drunkard spat on the ground in front of Geralt before darting forward in an attempt to tackle him.

Geralt retaliated with an uppercut to the jaw and then elbowing the man’s back, making him fall to the ground with a huff, winded.

Geralt glanced over his shoulder to tell Jaskier to get himself out of the way when Jaskier screamed his name.

“Look out!”

Geralt looked down just in time to see Cailan launching himself off the ground with a big shard of glass in hand, primed to sink it in to whatever part of Geralt’s flesh it reached first. Quick as a flash, Geralt’s heel came down on Cailan’s wrist with a whack that was certain to have caused at least a small fracture if not more judging by the sound of the curdled scream it triggered. It succeeded in getting Cailan to drop the shard immediately, allowing Geralt to slide it out of the way with his boot.

Cailan’s sidekicks had stayed out of things up until then, but the scream must have triggered their back up response as they both went to grab Geralt by his arms, only for him to yank them both down until their heads collided and they both fell to the floor groaning.

“You’re dead,” Cailan choked out as he grabbed Geralt’s ankle with his undamaged hand and pulled it to try and trip him.

Instead of letting his leg go with the movement, Geralt swung it out wide to loosen Cailan’s grip. When the hand fell to the floor with a smack, Geralt stepped on it with his heel hard enough to keep it in place until he manoeuvred the rest of himself but not hard enough to break anything. Cailan seemed weakened, but after the move he tried to play with the glass, Geralt was not taking any chances. He quickly mounted Cailan’s back and wrapped an arm around the man’s neck from behind. Lifting the struggling man’s head up with his arm and pushing in to the back of it with his other hand, it was only a matter of seconds before the writhing limbs that scratched at him became limp. Geralt gently guided him back to lying on the floor.

“Did you just…?” Jaskier looked horrified.

“No. He’s just unconscious. He’ll wake up in about thirty seconds or so. In that time,” he got off of Cailan and stood up, now standing above the floored group of three, “I would suggest the two of you drag him out of here before I drag you all out.”

“We’ll have you for this,” the other henchman spat at Geralt who simply cocked a brow.

“Yes, aggravated assault in a room full of witnesses. Smart thing to report. Tell your friend when he wakes up if I hear he turns any of his aggression on to his fiancé, there’ll be a round two.”

“Yeah! And I’ll pay for the hospital car parking!” Jaskier slipped in to his position beside Geralt and waved the envelope full of money in the air.

Geralt gave him a sideways glance as the men left the pub, dragging a still unconscious Cailan with them. “You’ll pay for parking?”

“It sounded better in my head,” Jaskier rubbed the back of his neck with a chuckle before looking rather guiltily up at Geralt. “I didn’t know she was engaged. She doesn’t wear a ring and she never mentioned it.”

“Yeah, that’s because the cheapskate never bought her one,” Adrianna looked as if she wanted to spit in Cailan’s direction.

Andrea placed a calming hand on Adrianna’s arm. “Sophie isn’t exactly happy in the relationship so she doesn’t like talking about it much. I’m pretty sure this will be the final straw for her, she always swore blind he would never be violent with anyone and if he was that was it for them, so… fingers crossed.”

She was carrying a dustpan and brush in her other hand which Geralt took from her and swept up the broken glass on the floor. “Sorry for the… commotion.”

“Don’t be silly, it wasn’t your fault, you were defending yourself,” she took the dustpan and brush back from him gratefully. “I must admit, it was actually very impressive.”

“I’ll say,” Jaskier muttered under his breath as his eyes raked up and down Geralt, thoroughly impressed by what he had just witnessed. Not that he had not been before but…

“Bastard deserved it,” she patted Geralt on the arm before walking off to the bar, “Good job, big guy.”

Geralt looked at how drained Jaskier now seemed and weighed up whether it was worth driving after with that much adrenaline running through him. “Have you got two rooms available upstairs?”

“Of course! We have two small ones still available. I’m sure Meryasek will insist on giving you a discount too after this palaver. Plus, you were his favourite of the night.”

Jaskier grinned from ear to ear. “I was?”

Andrea nodded with a smile and beckoned them over to the bar so that she could book them in for the night.

Geralt reached for his card to pay, but Jaskier put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Please. My hero and my winnings, I can pay for this.

 _Hero_.

Geralt hesitated at first but could tell from the look in Jaskier’s eye that the man would not let this go, so he let him pay for the rooms.

“I’ll just go upstairs and check that everything’s ready in them okay?” Andrea excused herself and both Geralt and Jaskier took a seat at the bar.

“Geralt-“

“Don’t mention it.”

“How is your hand?” Jaskier asked as he carefully took Geralt’s hand in his own.

Geralt flinched, but not because it particularly hurt. “I’m fine, Jaskier,” he watched the man turn his hand over gently to examine it. “I’m used to it.”

“Used to it?”

Geralt did not answer. Instead he concentrated on how delicate Jaskier’s touch was, as if anything even slightly heavier than the lightest of touches would hurt Geralt’s hand more.

“The names he called you…”

Geralt sighed. He expected Jaskier to let go, of both the conversation and his hand, but he did not. He just kept looking over what he had already seen. "I was a mixed marital artist. I fought for a living. ‘The White Wolf.’”

“Oh.” _Oh._ “Did you… enjoy it?”

“My uncle taught me to try and and get a handle on my emotions. Deal with typical messed up childhood stuff. It helped. Brought us closer together too.”

“That’s sweet…” It was certainly something to digest. Geralt; a professional fighter. He probably should have guessed if the man’s physique was anything to go by. The ruggedness… “Is that how you got your…” Jaskier reached up to touch the scar that divided Geralt’s eyebrow, but his fingers hesitated about an inch away before he retracted his hand to touch his own brow instead.

Geralt just nodded, unfazed by the near touch. “I was nineteen. I entered my first competition. Won fairly easily. Opponent was all smiles in company, but the second I left the venue, him and a group of his friends jumped me in the alley. Gave me that,” he raised his eyes as if to look at it, “And a couple of others too. It was rough but,” he smirked slightly, “I was the only one standing by the end of it.”

“You broke their legs?!”

“No,” Geralt chuckled at the fact that that is where Jaskier’s mind jumped to and shrugged it off with a proud smile, “Just knocked them all out so that I could get away.”

“Christ you poor thing…”

Again, Geralt shrugged it off “There was a camera in the alley. Installed literally hours before, luckily. The footage got leaked- it ended his career but kickstarted mine. Apparently everyone wants to sponsor someone with enough adrenaline in him to fend off four guys after being stabbed a couple of times.”

“You said you _were_ one… You’ve given it up?”

Geralt rubbed the back of his neck. “Not entirely,” he rolled his eyes at Jaskier’s encouraging look, “I own a gym. I teach classes sometimes. And some self defence stuff. But I don’t compete anymore. The crowds were…” Not exactly nice. They were fine at first, supportive even, you would be able to hear them calling out his name during the fights. But Geralt grew tired of fighting people who fought for the sake of a fight, who threw punches just to throw a punch. They were too easily predictable, made too many mistakes and Geralt just ended up wanting the fights to be over. So he finished them. Quickly. Quicker than he was supposed to. And the crowds did not like it. They called him ruthless. Just because they were being entertained for less time. A butcher. The Butcher.

“‘The White Wolf’… I think I might have to write that in to the song…”Jaskier shook his head in disbelief and decided he should probably let go of Geralt’s hand while he still had the willpower to not lace their fingers together. “You were professionally sponsored and you own a fucking gym, no wonder you can afford an apartment like that.”

“Hah,” Geralt chuckled, trying to push away the fact that he now did not know what to do with his hand now that Jaskier was not touching it, “No, that was Yennefer. She had already made quite a name for herself in her business even with how young she was. She was scouting for another project of hers when she met me about two years after that competition. She recognised me from the video and just sort of… sorted my life out for me. Then we hm… slipped in to a relationship and she said I should move in with her in London because it would be easier to travel everywhere from there. And…” he frowned, stopping himself from talking any further, realising he had not needed to say any of that. That Jaskier had not asked for him to talk about any of that.

Jaskier noted that Geralt had made himself uncomfortable with his sudden openness so tried to change that. He nudged Geralt with his arm and gave him a grin. “Hey so, about the role as my body guard…”

Geralt laughed again and Jaskier felt his heart swell at the sound, admiring the crinkles that formed at Geralt’s eyes as he closed them. Perhaps crows feet were not so bad after all.

“Hey guys,” Andrea popped up behind the bar and made them both jump, “Whenever you’re ready I can show you to your rooms upstairs.”

“I think I’m done for the night,” Geralt groaned as he stood.

“God, I’m going to go out like a light when my head hits the- fuck!” Jaskier darted off to run back to the table they had been sitting at earlier when he realised he did not have his guitar. And neither it seemed, did the table. He felt his heart sink to the floor and he nearly did himself until he heard a quiet voice behind him.

“Excuse me?”

Jaskier turned around to see a sweet, old lady standing there, guitar in hand.

“I hope I didn’t panic you too much, but as soon as the commotion started I took your guitar out of the way because I would have hated to have seen such a gorgeous instrument get damaged. I adored your singing by the way, you are very talented.”

“You absolute angel of a woman. You’re coming with me and I am buying you a drink to say thank you. If I am ever doing a gig at a venue you can get to, get in contact and I’ll get you some free tickets.”

“Oh no, sweetheart, it was nothing-“

“My darling, I insist, come along.”

After introducing his saviour to Geralt and buying her a drink as promised, they both bid her goodnight (and Jaskier reminded her of the future invitation) and let Andrea lead them to their accommodation for the night.

Geralt glanced back over his shoulder at Jaskier as they began their ascent up the stairs. “So you just happened to have this exact outfit in your bag this whole time?”

“Geralt, my dear, dear chum, if there is but one thing I have learnt in this life, it’s that you always pack a billowy, white shirt.”

Geralt did not correct the endearment. Though it was not exactly because of a friends and family discount.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier's shirt: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/843721311429785883/?nic_v1=1aYQvqBjcqd%2BqgpjbPpDz7vPLhLNZeK%2Bw07MRQtEGly6aTxGCW2lS%2FBwCWnXCaQTiR  
> Outfit change: (closest i could find) https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/843721311431976821/?nic_v1=1aYTWkWyBacW%2Fc7hAbBaY6AxLHv4Ik%2FkRXBkpvwrofaGd%2FfYfbskwa0aSZ9bgQlS0n  
> or a fun fem version: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/843721311431976841/?nic_v1=1aWZFofkeCW3hpO3UQXOV0DGWRWmZ8ZgKm3iyYr4%2FnRS5vk%2BZLzHDrf%2B0sqyUkNX7Q
> 
> chapter dedicated to user Pepsi (Pepsiiii) for making me cry ty for that it made writing through exhaustion just that bit easier
> 
> i had a lot of fun writing this chapter as you can probably tell i even finished it two whole days early who is she
> 
> if this was a popular fic, this is the point where id ask you to drop your names in the comments and if they fit the vibe i need for a character ill use them because i spent a solid half an hour trying to get meryaseks name and im v happy with it - a cornish name meaning sea lord
> 
> im really not looking forward to writing this next chapter because its the one ive planned the least and im worried its not going to be any good so please send motivating vibes ta
> 
> Songs used:
> 
> South Australia (Shanty)  
> John Kanaka (Shanty)  
> The Fishmonger's Daughter - Sonya Belousova & Giona Ostinelli  
> Toss A Coin To Your Witcher - Sonya Belousova & Giona Ostinelli
> 
> tumblr: zeebeebrown


	8. Don’t drink and drive. -Y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Wanna know a secret?”  
> "I don't know, do I?”  
> "Don't be difficult, I'm being vun.... vun? Vulnerable.”  
> "Don't hurt yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for all of you who have been so wonderfully patient

“ _I've got so many fans with so many demands_

 _I can hardly go take a piss-_ “

Telling Jaskier ‘no’, Geralt found, led to either one of two results: an insufferable, seemingly endless argument or a seemingly endless, insufferable batch of pouty silent treatment. So because of this, Geralt had let Jaskier teach him back up singer lyrics. But there was no way even the threat of a pout was going to get him to sing. He would humour Jaskier, but he would humour him in the most monotonous, disinterested voice imaginable.

“He can't pee.”

Jaskier could accept the effort.

“ _Be it theatre freak or the autograph-seeker_

 _They all want a piece of this_ -

“Give me, give me.”

“ _It’s a_ \- Geralt, those aren't the words I taught you.”

Geralt shrugged and glanced in both directions before taking a turning. “Close enough.”

Jaskier huffed and crossed his arms, but he would not pout; he was surprised enough that Geralt had even agreed to… well if you could call it ‘singing’ along… “You would butcher Gimme Gimme Gimme.” He hummed a few notes before continuing the song.

_“'Cause it's hard_

_It's hard_

_It's really, really hard_

_It's sexy but it's hard_

_This bar that I'm raising_

_To be this amazing!_

_It's hard_

_It's hard_

_It's so-“_

“Annoyingly hard.”

“Speaking of-“

“We’re entering Berlin,” Geralt announced as they hit traffic.

“Berlin, hmm?” Jaskier wriggled his phone free from his pocket after noticing a banner in the distance. “Hey, Geralt…” No reply. “Have you heard of something called Spreewiesn?”

“No.”

“Well it looks like it’s this form of Oktoberfest in Berlin and-“

“No, I meant ‘no’ as in ‘no, we’re not going’.”

And there was the pout. “I just thought it might be fun-“

“Everything is fun with you.”

Jaskier blinked, utterly dumfounded. But as soon as the look arrived on Jaskier’s face, it was gone as Geralt continued.

“That’s not what I meant,” he frowned, annoyed with himself for mixing up his words. “I meant to say that everything is about fun with you. The cinema, the pub. I’m going to Poland for a reason, Jaskier, I can’t keep stopping just because you want to do something fun.”

Silence. A silence that spoke volumes to Geralt because Jaskier was not giving him a pouty ‘I’m annoyed at you’ silent treatment, it was a blank-faced ‘I’ve annoyed you’ silent treatment. And oh, how much more worse it was.

“Hey,” he waited until Jaskier pulled himself away from staring out the window to look at him, “Does it have food stalls?”

Within roughly forty or so minutes, Geralt had found a place to park about a ten minute walk from the location Jaskier had up on his phone. And the closer they got, the more apparent it became that they were horrendously underdressed.

Geralt watched as another group of people all dressed up for the occasion passed them to pay for their tickets. “I don’t think they’re going to let us in.”

“Nonsense Geralt…” though he did not sound particularly sure of himself as he too eyed the passing group. Jaskier’s eyes then wandered to the stall next to the ticket booth; a conveniently placed stall selling outfits stocked full of dirndls and lederhosen. Jaskier immediately grabbed Geralt’s arm and dragged him over despite Geralt’s protests.

“Oh, this is perfect,” Jaskier’s eyes went wide ashe took in all of the possibilities, “What colour do you think I should get?”

Geralt gave him a look that said he could not care less and thought this was an absolutely stup-

“You’re right. Black would be best, goes with everything,” Jaskier mused as if he was not wearing the white shirt from his performance at the pub because he had forgotten how much he missed wearing it. “I will take…” his hand hovered over a bunch until he made his decision, “This one! Perfect. Looks like it should fit too.” He paid for his newest outfit and turned around to show it off to Geralt. “Now. For you, my good fellow-“

“Don’t even think about it.” His deadpan glare was met with a chuckle from Jaskier who had known far better than to expect Geralt to join in with dressing up.

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal…”

Geralt cocked a brow.

“I’ll go get changed in whatever of these shops has a decent enough toilet and then you,” he straightened up Geralt’s jacket in a move that Geralt knew was an attempt to butter him up, “You could run my clothes back to Roach so that I don’t have to carry them around all afternoon. If you do that for me, I won’t make you dress up, deal?”

Jaskier walked in to a nearby cafe still surprised that Geralt had agreed so quickly to running the errand for him, not realising that in the split second after Jaskier had proposed the idea, Geralt had already weighed up the annoyance of the walk there and back with the annoyance of having Jaskier whining about carrying an inconvenient bag around with him and the decision was obvious. Plus he was a fast walker.

Jaskier managed to steal a few moments to admire his new look in a mirror before the thought that Geralt was waiting patiently (or not) outside for him crept in. He put his trousers in to the bag he had been given the lederhosen in and practically skipped out of the cafe but not before buying something first because he felt guilty for using their facilities.

“Here,” Jaskier offered as he snuck up behind Geralt and reached over the man’s shoulder to hand him the granola bar he had just bought. “Healthiest thing I could find in there.”

“Thank you?” Geralt took it regardless, turning around with a confused frown until he looked at Jaskier’s outfit change. “They’re…” _Short_. His mouth went dry.

“Great! I know! They’re a little small, I kinda underestimated my height but they’re cute, no?”

 _Please don’t squat, please don’t squat, please don’t- and he’s squatting_. Geralt grabbed the bag from Jaskier and set off.

“I’ll wait here then!” Jaskier called after him and watched the man disappear in to the crowd.

Being a quick walker now that he was not slowed down by Jaskier and and if anything, sped up by trying to leave the situation as soon as possible, it only took Geralt just under fifteen minutes to walk to Roach and back. He frowned when he got back to the cafe and could not find Jaskier.

18:54:03 Where are you? -G

18:54:06 Incoming call Jaskier.

“You could have just text back,” Geralt grumbled in lieu of a greeting.

“Why deny you the pleasure of hearing my lovely voice, darling,” came the sing song reply on the other end of the phone.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“Why yes, Geralt! I will marry you!”

Geralt could hear giggling close in the background of Jaskier’s call. “It’s fine, I can just go back to the car-“

“Over by the entrance! By the ticket booth. Oh, I can see your hair above the crowd. Look, can you see me waving? There you…” Jaskier’s words trailed off as his mouth went dry.

Geralt hung up the phone the moment he saw Jaskier, not seeing any reason in keeping on the line when he could talk to him in person in a few moments.

“I uh…” Jaskier blanked out for a brief moment as he looked Geralt up and down and quickly cleared his throat. “Are you… wearing my shirt?”

He was. When Geralt had gone back to the car to put Jaskier’s trousers in his bag, the flannel shirt from the night that they had camped out by the lake was sticking out of the top of it. In a stupid passing thought that he had latched on to, Geralt made the loose connection between the checkered shirts worn by most in attendance and the sort of checked pattern of the shirt and thought it might count as dressing up, trying to fit in to the spirit of things. Of course, the shirt had been fashionably oversized on Jaskier but Geralt was of a more… significant build compared to the other. Suffice to say he was practically bursting the seams and Jaskier was actually sort of impressed he had even managed to squeeze it on somehow.

Jaskier licked his lips and coughed again when he realised Geralt was staring back at him, waiting for an answer to a question Jaskier had not even heard him say. “It’s a little uh… snug?”

Geralt grunted and began to take off the shirt.

“No, no, don’t take it off,” Jaskier waved his hands, trying to get Geralt to stop, “I didn’t mean it looked bad I just didn’t think you looked comf- uh… comfort… cable…” Jaskier’s words trailed off as his brain short circuited again as Geralt stripped himself of the shirt and tied it around his waist instead, further highlighting the jaw dropping shoulder to waist ratio that was criminally unfair on Jaskier’s heart.

“Cable?” The woman standing behind Jaskier quirked a brow at Jaskier’s drooling and immediately brought the man back to the present.

“Ah, yes! Geralt, meet my new friends! This here is Tim, and these two are Katrina and Petra and this delightful little peach,” he stepped aside to make room for her, “Is the adorable Allison.”

“Please, call me Allie, everyone else does,” she beamed and Geralt swore he was looking at the sun. The woman looked as if a cuss had never left her lips and that her day job was an angel.

“Does that mean you don’t find me adorable?” the woman who Jaskier had introduced as Katrina crossed her arms, developing a challenging manner before the woman Jaskier introduced as Petra swooped in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s okay babe, I think you’re adorably intimidating.”

Katrina grumbled but eventually smiled, the affection pacifying her.

“I was waiting outside the cafe for you to come back and out popped Allie who had just done the same thing. She was waiting for her friends to come out so we got chatting. She complemented my lederhosen!” he looked proud of himself and his impeccable clothing choices.

“I bet she did,” Geralt muttered under his breath.

“Ah, JJ!” Allison noticed someone in the crowd and jumped up animatedly and waved her arms in the air to flag them down. “Over here!”

Along bounded a man a few moments later who both Jaskier and Geralt would describe as the human version of a golden retriever; tall, all smiles and wide eyes and sunbeam golden hair that matched Allison’s. “Sorry I took so long, I got locked in the toilet,” he grinned and wrapped an arm around Allison’s shoulders.

“Geralt, Jaskier, this is my husband, Julian.”

Huh. Husband. Geralt ignored the feeling of his jealousy dissipating because he had not realised the green eyed monster had reared its head in the first place. He noted however, that Jaskier’s eyes seemed to grow a little wider and for some reason, he looked a little sick as Allison introduced her husband. Probably just worried that that he might have got himself in to another marriage scandal.

“Should have called me I would have come and picked the lock for you!” Petra looked fiercely determined until Katrina took her hand to hold her back.

“They don’t put those kinds of locks on toilets, P.”

“No fair, I never get to pick locks.”

Geralt decided that there was probably a fairly interesting story as to how the woman had even picked up the skill. Shame they would not be sticking around long enough to

“So you guys wanna go grab a drink with us?”

“That would be great!” Jaskier enthusiastically agreed without consulting Geralt first. He paid for both of their tickets before turning round to hand one to Geralt and noting his expression. “You okay, bud?”

“I can’t. Still got to drive tonight.”

“Come on, Geralt, I’m sure your family won’t mind you being a couple of hours late.”

Geralt was about to open his mouth to further protest when Tim turned around an offered and option up. “If you need somewhere to crash tonight, I could call my grandmother. She owns a place not far from here and usually keeps a couple of beds back when I’m in town.”

With a small gasp, Jaskier placed a hand on his heart and turned away from Tim to look at Geralt with an almost cartoonish sad expression. “And who are we to turn down the kindness of strangers, Geralt?”

Geralt looked Tim up and down, grunted and took out his phone, typing out a quick text which he received a response to moments later.

19:02:02 We’re fine here. -V

_It’ll be better than a pout…_

A warning finger was jabbed in Jaskier’s direction as Geralt pocketed his phone and ticket. “No matter how much you drink tonight you are getting up early- and I mean _early_ , even earlier than this morning so I can make it there by the end of tomorrow.”

Jaskier held up three fingers and winked. “Scout’s honour.”

Even though Jaskier made the fair point that Geralt was in fact the one with the money out of the two of them, the look on Geralt’s face when the first round of drinks was suggested said that he would be much less likely to bring up the fact that Jaskier was further delaying his journey if he was to ply him with a drink to make up for it. And of course Jaskier went along with it. He was pretty sure he still owed Geralt a drink from their first meeting anyway.

“So,” Jaskier drawled as they all sat around a circular picnic table with their newly acquired drinks, “Come on then, tell me about yourselves, what do you do?”

If anything, Petra and Katrina looked like they should have each other’s occupations. Katrina was tall and slim and covered in tattoos and piercings and, as Petra had rightfully described, a little intimidating. She owned a bakery up the road. Petra, a plump, rosy cheeked woman who looked like the epitome of a cinnamon roll, explained that she was currently a med student back in England and they were currently on a break from the academic year so she had flown back over to spend time with Katrina. Engaged to each other. They met when Petra went on holiday to Berlin with some friends to celebrate the end of her first year at university and stumbled upon Katrina’s bakery one day when she was lost and it was tipping it down with rain. Apparently Katrina was smitten from the moment the woman walked in despite how much Petra insisted she had looked like a drowned rat. Jaskier made no comment out loud over the fact that it was comforting to see an example of opposites attract and gave him a little hope for his budding friendship with a certain someone. Instead he commented that that fact that she was a doctor in training might come in handy later when Geralt ‘inevitably’ got black out drunk.

Both Julian and Allison worked as teachers back in England at the same school and met on the first day of their teacher training course and apparently fell in love instantly. They had got married last week and were now firmly riding the wave of marital bliss, but Katrina was sure to inform them that they had always been this sickeningly sweet. Berlin was their honeymoon so they had an excuse to fly over and hang out with Petra, who had been friends with Allison since they were babies and her nieces attend the school.

When it came to Tim’s turn, he shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothing as exciting. I’m an investment banker.”

“Old money bags over here,” Katrina rolled her eyes at her step brother who narrowed his eyes at her in return but followed it with a quiet chuckle.

“Helped you open that bakery, didn’t I?”

“Eternally grateful, dear brother, as I’m sure that you are too that you can lord it over me for the foreseeable future.”

He laughed again and swirled his drink. “That was the plan.”

“An investment banker… huh…” Jaskier pondered and took a sip of his own drink, “Can’t say I’ve ever met one of those before.” Inside he was brewing a little pool of jealousy. Geralt was rich. Tim was rich. They were both successful and successful people attract each other, at least he could tell that Tim was attracted to Geralt because he had not taken his eyes off of the man for the last five minutes and probably even longer. He could not tell if the attraction was reciprocated by Geralt as Jaskier was still to fathom out what that expression would look like on Geralt.

Geralt had noticed Tim staring too, but _he_ thought the gaze was directed at _Jaskier_ and did not want to dwell on it.

“What about you, Jaskier,” Julian asked, looking genuinely interested, “What do you do?”

“Oh, seems a bit stupid now to follow that. I am an aspiring musician.”

Geralt frowned. “Since when are you modest? He got an agent the other day and last night he won a competition where people had to buy votes. He _is_ a musician.”

Both Katrina and Petra shared a knowing look that was not noticed by the rest of the table. Jaskier was too busy trying to hold back a smile and fight to keep his heart from bursting out of his chest.

Guilty as charged,” he chuckled, “I also teach private music lessons.”

“Oh my gosh you must be so bloody talented.” Allison placed her elbows on the table and placed her chin in her hands. “What do you play?” she asked, fully invested in inescapable vortex that was Jaskier’s charm.

“I-“

“Don’t ask,” Geralt interrupted and Jaskier batted him playfully on the shoulder.

“I was going to say various instruments because I don’t think this one wants to be subjected to the extensive list again.”

Geralt nodded.

“I’ll show you the link to my channel later,” he whispered with a wink and both Allison and Julian chuckled.

“What about you, Geralt?” Tim asked, still looking past Jaskier sitting next to him as if the man was invisible.

“Bartender.”

“Now who’s being modest?” Jaskier elbowed Geralt who was quick to try and stop him.

“Jaskier, don’t-“

“You might recognise Geralt here from his stint as a famous mixed martial artist. He’s very good. I mean, I think he is. I haven’t seen it in person, only videos, but he’s won all the matches I watched!”

Geralt frowned. “You looked me up?”

Jaskier turned a deaf ear. “ _And_ he owns his own gym and he teaches classes to troubled kids and self defence classes and-“

“Jaskier. Knock it off,” he muttered in to his drink.

He glanced at Geralt and realised that the man actually looked a little uncomfortable which had not been Jaskier’s intent at all. In fact, quite the opposite. Geralt had spoken so highly of him and made sure to make his achievements sound impressive so he only wanted to return the favour. But he shut up at the request.

“Wow…” Allison was even more wide eyed than before.

“I feel like we should be asking for pictures with you and getting your autographs,” Tim chuckled with Allison nodding in agreement, looking like she was itching to reach for her phone the second they said it was okay.

“Yeah, how much would we get if we sold them?”

“Kat!” Petra scalded her fiancé.

As the afternoon progressed, so did the drinking. The group leant on Katrina and Tim’s beverage recommendations and finished off every single shot that was brought to a table. A lot of shots. It was starting to become apparent that Jaskier was feeling the effects of his drinking a little too hard so when Geralt heard Jaskier’s stomach grumble and practically felt the vibrations of it too, he utilised the perfect set up to suggest getting some food in the hopes it might soak up some of the alcohol. No two of them got the same order and a couple of items they got as a communal option for the table. Both the couples shared their meals because that was apparently what couples did.

Jaskier noted Tim eyeing up some of his tray. “Here, Tim, you’ve got to try this.”

“What? No, Jaskier, I'm good, thank you-“

“No, honestly, it’s fine, I know you said earlier that you were trying to decide whether you wanted to order this or not, so just try it!” he shovelled some on to his fork and held it up to Tim’s mouth.

And for some strange reason, Geralt felt his whole body tense. Even his teeth were gritting together as he watched Jaskier feed Tim the mouthful of food and the bastard had the fucking gall to look straight back at him as if he knew exactly what he was doing and Geralt could have sworn he even smirked afterwards. Smug git.

“Here,” Tim pushed his drink towards Jaskier, “Take my cocktail in return. I usually like it but they made it different to how it's normally done.”

“Bless your soul! Thank you! Geralt could have made that perfectly for you.” Jaskier, painfully oblivious to Geralt’s rising jealousy, swivelled in his seat to face Geralt with a beam. “Here,” he loaded up another forkful, “If you liked the burger last night you’ll probably like this too.”

“It’s good,” Tim added with a reassuring smile.

Geralt just grumbled and shook his head and Jaskier tried his best to hide his mixture of hurt and confusion over the rejection by eating the bite himself.

A weird mood settled over the table afterwards, that Allison, angel that she was, disrupted by throwing her hand in to the air. “Drinking games!” she announced with glee, “Let’s play some drinking games! What about uh… Never Have I Ever!”

Geralt was not exactly thrilled about the idea of Jaskier having the encouragement to drink more, but at least it was a welcomed distraction from the awkwardness. They all got new drinks and offered up their ideas for rounds and and when they thought of them rather than taking it in turns.

“No, wait, I take that one back, that one was rubbish I’ve got a better one,” Petra’s expression turned smug, “Never have I ever got a tattoo that I later regretted."

Katrina narrowed her eyes as she drank. “You asked that specifically with me in mind, asshole.”

“You’re damn right,” Petra giggled and kissed Katrina’s cheek to sooth the betrayal.

“I think I’ve got more that I regret than ones that I don’t. Waste of canvas space really.”

“You could always draw them on with dry erase pens first to try them out,” Allison suggested to try and be helpful.

Geralt elbowed Jaskier lightly, making Jaskier squirm and ultimately roll his eyes. “Yep, alright, I know, I know. I regret it very much,” Jaskier waved his wrist around to draw attention to the dandelion etched there and took a drink. He quickly threw his own round in to the ring to avoid the embarrassment of having to explain the story behind his tattoo to a new group of people who could possibly be just as judgmental as Geralt had been. “Never have I ever stolen something.”

Tim tried to take a subtle sip of his drink, but Julian gasped and pointed at him. “Tim! No way!”

“Hah, yeah… my bad. I was a bit of an asshole growing up, I used to nick the keys to some of the rooms at my Grandmother’s place so that I could hook up with people there,” he rubbed at the back of his neck.”

“Tsch,” Katrina tutted, “Classy. You wait ’til I tell her.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Come on, babe,” Allison rubbed at Julian’s arm, “Drink up.”

Julian blinked for a moment, genuinely trying to figure out when on Earth he had stolen something before he looked at his wife, confused. “Al, I’ve never stolen anything.”

“You stole my heart.”

Both Katrina and Petra wretched in perfect unison and the entire table laughed.

“Okay, along the same lines… Never have I ever been arrested.” Katrina’s immediately looked from person to person to check their reactions.

Nobody drank for a few moments until Jaskier sighed and downed a mouthful and Geralt’s head immediately snapped to the side to look at him when he noticed the movement next to him. “I punched a mens rights activist at a woman’s march. I was there supporting my friend and he was harassing her and-“

 _Oh no, that’s hot_. Geralt did not hear the rest of Jaskier’s story, he had zoned out staring at him until Jaskier waved a hand in front of his face.

“Earth to Geralt? Hey bud, you with us? You got anything to ask?”

“Uh… no.”

“It’s alright, Geralt, I’ve got one um…” Turns out that Allison did not actually have one in mind, but it only took her a couple of seconds to think one up. “Never have I ever been skinny dipping.”

A couple of people at the table drank but Geralt and Jaskier ended up having their own private conversation as Jaskier clicked his fingers in a disappointed motion. “Damn it, I should have suggested it at the lake and we could have both drunk to that.”

“Mm,” Geralt hummed, “You should have.”

They both looked equally shocked that the words had left Geralt’s mouth, but Jaskier came out of it worse for wear as his cheeks flushed red. He quickly tried to distract himself on the next round that was thrown out to the table by Julian.

“Never have I ever gone commando.”

“Hah, babe, remember that time when-“

“Shut up,” Petra grumbled in to her cup, “I’m drinking.”

Both Tim and Jaskier drank a mouthful too and gave a nod to each other. Geralt tried his hardest to not let the jealousy rise up and to also not think about Jaskier going commando. _Fucking alcohol_ he thought to himself, even though he had not actually had any of his drink in about half an hour.

“Okay uh…” Tim stalled for a moment before slamming his cup on to the table, “Never have I ever sent a nude to the wrong person.”

If Jaskier’s cheeks went red before, they were scarlet now.

“Not a nude but hey Tim, remember within like the first month of knowing you I accidentally sent you porn?” Katrina threw the memory out there as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“How could I forget?”

While the others were distracted with the story of how Katrina had dropped her phone on her face while watching porn and sent the link to Tim with her nose, Jaskier took a sneaky drink. He heard Geralt huff out a quiet laugh next to him.

“Don’t start,” he warned under his breath and briefly put a hand on Geralt’s thigh to try and get him to stop.

And now Geralt’s cheeks were warm too.

“Never have I ever had a threesome!” Katrina looked excited about asking that one.

Next to her, Petra sighed and raised her drink, “Kat, you know you can just drink between rounds right? Or did you just want to show off?”

Katrina grinned and clinked glasses with Petra, “You know me so well.” They both drank.

Tim drank too.

“Nice,” Jaskier nodded in approval before taking a sip of his own drink.

“Oh yeah? What was your ratio?” Tim asked with an inflection as if he was about to challenge Jaskier.

Jaskier just finished off his own drink to answer that question without words and moved on to Geralt’s too before the man stopped him. “Why? You’re not drinking it!”

“Okay what about about a more serious one?” Petra asked and Allison and Julian let out an ‘ooh’ to encourage her to continue. “Never have I ever cheated.”

Katrina barked out a laugh and threw a napkin at Tim who was sitting deadly still and looking very guilty. “Drink up, lustmolch!”

Tim did as he was told and Allison gasped in shock.

He tried to justify himself, but it did not work. He took another couple of mouthfuls to dull the awkward silence that fell over the table.

_Gross._

_Gross._

“Okay, well I don’t like the vibe that one brought with it so what about a nice one,” Allison beamed after a few moments, “Never have I ever kissed a celebrity,”

“Back in my straight days before I saw the light,” Petra patted Katrina’s thigh, “I kissed a guy who had a recurring role on a medical drama. He was at the hospital for research and he was _very_ thorough,” she took a swig.

“Hey Geralt,” Jaskier hummed as he walked his fingers up Geralt’s bicep until the man turned his head to look at him, “If we kissed each other right now we could both drink.”

For a moment it was just the two of them sitting there staring at each other and the rest of the world around them ceased to exist. Jaskier’s hand had moved from Geralt’s arm to his chest and he could feel the heartbeat that Geralt was trying desperately hard to control.

He watched as Geralt’s eyes flicked down to look his lips and took that as an invitation to start leaning forward slowly until Geralt opened his mouth and Jaskier froze along with the rest of the world, lips barely parted.

“Since when are you a celebrity?”

Jaskier threw his head back with laughter and the world returned to normal as the rest of the group broke from their conversation about Petra’s straight days to look at the commotion. “You cheeky bastard,” he shoved Geralt’s arm trying to get rid of the smirk on the man’s face, “No autographs for you, mister.”

“Shame, could have sold it for a fiver.”

“Oh how I hate to deny you that, I know much that amount would mean to you.”

They exchanged a few more back and forths with the group watching them like a game of tennis.

“Sie werden ficken,” Katrina muttered out of the side of her mouth.

Allison tapped her with the back of her hand. “Kat, you can’t say something like that!”

“What, we’re all thinking it, right Jules?”

Julian chuckled awkwardly and wrapped an arm around Allison’s shoulders to show that he was on her side. “I think whatever they choose to do or not do is their business.”

Katrina rolled her eyes because of course he would say something to back up his wife. So she turned to Petra. Who was conveniently taking a long time drinking some of her drink. Another roll of her eyes and she turned to Tim. “Tim, you getting a vibe?”

“Certainly getting something,” he muttered, but went back to smiling warmly when the pair ended their sexual tension comedy routine to rejoin the group.

“This isn’t fair,” Petra whined as she put her glass down, “Geralt hasn’t drunk a single one!”

“I mean, you’re drinking regardless of your answers P,” Katrina smirked as she received a glare from her fiancé.

Jaskier narrowed his eyes and smiled slyly and Geralt shook his head in warning. “My turn. Never have I ever fucked a multimillionaire.”

“Jaskier,” Julian chuckled and shook his head, thinking Jaskier had drunk so much that he had forgotten the rules, “The point of the game is to try and get people to drink-“

“Bastard,” Geralt grumbled and swallowed a mouthful (or two) of his beer.

The group, bar Jaskier and Geralt who were currently having a glare down, looked gobsmacked.

“I have…” Petra started.

“So many questions…” Katrina finished.

“And married her too,” he squared up to Geralt who huffed in protest and recoiled back slightly.

“I am not drinking for that one.”

“You’re… married?” Tim blinked and Julian shot him a look subtly as if to say ‘sorry, buddy’.

“Rules are rules, Geralt, drink up,” he pushed the glass up closer to Geralt’s face only for Geralt to jab in to Jaskier’s side to get him to stop.

“Divorced,” he clarified, narrowing his glare at Jaskier. “I’ve got one.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide.

“Never have I even slept with someone’s fiancé.”

“Okay! New game!” Jaskier announced loudly as he tried to cover up Geralt’s mouth with his hand.

Geralt laughed and batted away Jaskier’s hand. “Come on, drink up, Jaskier, rules are rules!”

“Before you get any ideas, Jaskier, you’re not my type anymore,” Petra giggled and snaked an arm around Katrina’s waist who looked very proud of that fact.

“I didn’t know she was engaged!” Jaskier whined. “At least I didn’t knock him out cold!”

Geralt frowned. “He was going to knock _you_ out. I was literally defending you.”

Petra and Katrina shared another look.

“Ooh, look!” Allison, feeling rather awkward again, quickly shot up from her seat and swiped something from a nearby table, “Someone left a pack of cards behind. We could play Ring of Fire!”

“Yes, let’s. I think we’re more than done with this child’s game,” Jaskier glared at Geralt who just smirked back at him before taking a smug sip of his beer.

“Anyone need a new drink?” Geralt asked as he stood up. “Anyone except Jaskier?” Who stuck his tongue out at him.

The table threw their orders at him and Tim stood up to join him. “I’ll help you carry them back,” he offered his services and Geralt just grunted in lieu of thanks.

As the two left the table, Jaskier commandeered what was left of the Geralt’s beer with a smug smirk.

“So…” Allison dragged out the word and waggled her eyebrows. “Is Geralt your boyfriend?”

Smug disappearing, Jaskier spluttered into the drink, taking it away from his mouth to cough. “I am flattered you would think so, my dear, but alas, it has only been a couple of days and he has shown no interest.”

“A couple of days?”

“Nicht interessiert, mein arsch,” Katrina scoffed.

“Yeah, we only met last week.”

“Last week and yet…” Petra looked as if her brain was frazzled trying to work it out, but being a lesbian herself, she should have known better, “You’re in Berlin together?”

Jaskier nodded with a smile as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “We’re driving to Poland, actually. We met Monday night and he agreed to take me to meet an agent in London and then after that he agreed to take me to Poland with him so that I could uh… visit my Grandmother.”

“Huh…” Allison nodded as if she understood and Katrina repeated her previous statement. “But you must like him right? He’s bloody hot.”

Julian nodded in agreement, further adding to Jaskier’s idea that the couple shared everything, including a brain.

“An understatement, the man is truly a God carved from the finest of marble. Can be rather sweet sometimes too and wickedly funny when he wants to be. He…” the words trailed off for a moment as he gazed over to Geralt with a soft smile, “He helped a complete stranger get one step closer to his dream, gave up an phenomenally successful career because when he thought he was giving people what they wanted, they threw it back in his face, teaches people to try and give them more confidence and he's known me for five minutes but encourages me to try and believe in my work. He may look like marble but inside he has a heart of gold. I don’t think anyone else’s opinion has ever mattered to me as much as his, nor have I felt more inspiration to create more art than when I look at him…” He trailed off and the table fell silent as they watched him continue to stare adoringly. Allison had tears in her eyes and clutched at Julian’s arm and her heart.

“But yeah,” he coughed and cleared his throat, bringing his mind back to the table. “Hot.”

For the brief moment that they were queuing together, Tim and Geralt remained quiet, but the moment after they reached the front and reeled off everyone’s order, Tim decided to try and converse.

“So you and Jaskier, huh?” Tim nudged Geralt with his arm and nodded back over to the table.

“Me and Jaskier what?” He did not bother to look at Tim or the table, he just kept an eye on the drinks as they were being made.

“Y’know,” he shrugged before leaning on the counter, “Are you guys together?”

“We are not together.” And for some reason, some part of him deep down immediately regretted admitting that.

“Good to know, good to know… Do you like him?”

Geralt was not a fan of all the probing. A pause. “I tolerate him.”

“Huh… high praise,” Tim chuckled and rubbed at the back of his neck. “How long have you been friends?”

“We’re not.”

“Right… that’s why you’ve travelled to Berlin together. Gotcha.”

“I’m doing him a favour.” Not that he thought it was any of Tim’s business.

“Well aren’t you a generous man? I like that…” He rested his elbow on the bar with a lot more sophistication than Jaskier had ever managed.

Geralt thought it look sleazy.

“I’m sure he does like you at least a little bit Jaskier. You’re wonderful! Who wouldn’t like you!”

“Yeah!” Julian chimed in, trying to be helpful and build Jaskier’s confidence up, “You’re attractive, sweet, funny, charming, talented I bet too, Geralt definitely seems to think so and if his opinion matters to you that much, he must be right.”

“Calm down, Julian, your wife’s right there,” Katrina snorted but Allison was too busy staring up at her husband just as adoringly, proud of him for trying to uplift someone so nicely.

She turned her attention back to Jaskier. “And if not… Tim’s gay, y’know,” Allison, oblivious to the impending jealousy she was about to unleash, nudged Jaskier and wiggled her eyebrows as if to tell him he may have a shot with Tim if he was so inclined.

“Ach je…” Katrina shook her head as Petra patted her shoulder in solidarity, both of them questioning how they coped being friends with heterosexuals.

“Oh is he indeed,” Jaskier gave the man a quick once over and decided that Tim was perhaps standing a little too close for comfort next to Geralt. “Hey, Geralt! Hurry up, I’m thirsty!”

“Oh, believe me, we know,” Katrina snorted and everyone at the table, other than Jaskier, tried to stifle a laugh.

Tim smiled at Geralt and swept an arm in the air to gesture over to the table “Duty calls. I’ll bring the tray of shots over when they’re finished.”

“Hm,” Geralt grunted and walked back over to their table leaving Tim behind to wait for the remaining drinks.

“Tim seems… nice,” Jaskier tried to gauge the situation by looking out of the corner of his eye as Geralt sat down next to him and sparked a quiet conversation.

 _He wants to sleep with you_. Geralt just grunted as he handed over Jaskier’s stein.

Jaskier did not know how to interpret that noise but accepted the drink with a small nod of thanks. “Glad to see you got yourself a new one,” he offered a smile which was returned right back, albeit more subtle, and suddenly things did not seem as dire.

When Tim returned with the tray of shots, he was met with a cheer of applause from most of the table and the rules of the game were explained.

“Okay,” Katrina cracked her knuckles and drew the first card to explain what it meant, “You pick an ace, you gotta drink and then the person next to you drinks and then all the way round the circle. Can’t stop until it gets back to you.”

Petra picked up the next card. “Pick a two and you pick someone to take a shot.”

“A three and you take a shot.”

“Pick up a four and all of the girls have to drink.”

“When you see a five, watch the person who picks it up because they can put their thumb on the table at any point in the game and the last person to do the same has to take a shot. Six is dicks,” she pointed directly at Tim, “Means all the boys take a shot.”

“Seven is heaven and is basically the same as five except it’s the last person to raise their hand in the air.”

“Eight- pick a mate to drink with you.”

“Nine is rhyme-“

“I am appreciating some of these ones that rhyme,” Jaskier interrupted quietly and received a glare from Katrina.

“Nine is rhyme so you have to pick a word with some decent rhymes - don’t be an asshole about it, and the person to who can’t think of a rhyme had to do a shot.”

“For ten it’s another circle round so the chooser has to pick a category and we have to go around and say something that fits in that category. If you can’t think of a word or even hesitate, you gotta drink. Pick up a Jack and you get to make up a new rule for the game which could be anything,” Petra waggled her eyebrows at the idea.

“A queen means that any time after you pick that up and you ask someone a question and they answer it, they have to drink. However, if they say ‘Fuck you, Question Master’ instead, _you_ have to drink.”

“King is the horror of all horrors,” Petra picked up Geralt’s empty stein that Jaskier had finished offand slammed it into the middle of the table. “You’ve gotta add some of your drink to the dirty pint. The game ends when the final king has been picked up and everyone has to add some of their drink until the cup is full and the person who picked up the card has to down it all. So…”

Katrina shuffled the cards and spread them around the glass. “Let’s begin.”

Things were a little wobbly at first with those a little more inebriated forgetting which cards meant what and contesting the validity of the results ‘last person to do ‘x’ rounds’ but after a few turns things started to get more intense and competitive. Two of the kings had already been picked.

“Ally pally picked a four! Drink up, ladies!” Petra downed her shot enthusiastically and pointed an accusatory finger at Julian. “Hey! No! No fair! Put that down, Julian, that’s not yours, give that to her!”

Julian froze, guilty. “Allie wanted me to do her shot for her, she’s had enough…”

“Well she can go pee it out and suck up her shot, regeln sind regeln.”

Allison whined in protest but ultimately continued to play along. Julian rubbed her back in support.

Tim was next and he picked up an eight. “Jaskier, grab a shot,” he ordered as he picked one up for himself.

“Let’s do the arm-y thing!” Jaskier let himself get all excited about it and held out his arm to wrap it around Tim’s as they both tipped their shots to their mouths. Geralt was conveniently distracted by something in the distance. Jaskier felt the alcohol slide down his throat as he swallows and let out a hiss of disapproval as he slapped the table. “Right my go… ah shit, a three? That’s no fun.”

Geralt picked a three too.

When Katrina picked her card, she kept it close to her chest and smirked. You could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she calculated what she was going to say. “By royal decree of my Jack,” she slapped the card on to the table, “Partners have to sit on their partners laps.”

“Babe, I’m a bit heavy-“

“Sit. On. My. Lap.” Katrina patted her thighs and with a small sigh, Petra got up and sat down on a very smug looking Katrina’s lap.

At the same time Allison practically jumped up on to Julian’s lap, welcoming the opportunity to get even closer to her husband. Julian had no complaints and kissed her temple as she settled. “There’s only two couples though…” Allison noted, looking across to the other side of the table.

Katrina somehow looked even more smug. “Jaskier could-“

“Jaskier could sit on both of their laps!” he threw out the suggestion that was more of an order as he shot up out of his seat and gestured for the two men to sit closer, at which, Tim jumped at the idea and immediately slid closer to Geralt, who did not move an inch.

As Jaskier tried to sit down, the difference in height of the men’s thighs caused him to tilt and in his inebriated state (not that he was much better sober either) he wobbled. Geralt got there first and cupped a hand just above Jaskier’s waist to stabilise him. Tim was quick to follow, placing his hand on top of Geralt’s as if to help. “I’ve got this,” his voice was low, almost a warning, as he pulled Jaskier fully on to his lap.

“Oop-“ Jaskier yelped as he was manoeuvred but hummed in approval when he was safely on Geralt’s lap. He had expected it to be rock hard- with muscles, of course, nothing else (yet) but it was surprisingly comfy.

“Aww Tim, you look lonely! I’m sure Jaskier could switch to you in a bit if Geralt doesn’t mind sharing of course,” Katrina sniggered but the fact that Geralt’s hand was still firmly supporting Jaskier’s hip spoke volumes.

Petra was next and she picked up a five and sneakily put her thumb on the table right away. Both Geralt and Jaskier noticed this at the exact same time, but did not manage to mimic the action at the exact same time. Jaskier, being closest to the table was able to put his thumb on it first and rather than Geralt managing to follow suit, Jaskier used his free hand to grab hold of Geralt’s and hold it back. Although Geralt was more than strong enough to overpower Jaskier’s grip, he was so overcome with surprise at the action, that he found himself being the last person to manage to complete the task.

“Geralt’s last! He has to drink!” Allison giggled and pushed a shot over towards Geralt.

Jaskier leant forward and picked it up for him, letting the shot glass linger by Geralt’s mouth for a moment as his lips curved in to another smirk. “You have two hands, you know…”

Again, Geralt could feel his cheeks warm up slightly and he muttered something about how Jaskier might have fallen off.

“So considerate,” Jaskier purred as he titled the glass up to feed his loser the shot. Geralt opened his mouth obediently right on cue, eyes locked with Jaskier’s the entire time.

“Behave,” Geralt ordered once it was swallowed and quickly bounced one of his legs, making Jaskier yelp as he wobbled.

In retaliation, Jaskier dug his nails in to the hand that was gripping his hip.

“Sie werden auf dem tisch ficken…” Katrina muttered and this time Petra hummed in agreement. Even Julian and Allison nodded, getting the gist of the translation, though they looked more happy for Geralt and Jaskier rather than amused like the other couple. Tim just looked awkward sitting next to them.

Julian cleared his throat bringing everyone back to the game. “Another eight- come on, Tim, have a shot with me,” he grinned, trying to cheer him up.

Allison let her husband finish his shot before she reached forward to pick up her card. “A ten… was that the rhyming one or the categories one?”

“Well does ten rhyme with rhyme?” Tim asked a little impatiently.

Allison stuck her tongue out at him.

“I’m gonna pretend like I totally knew it was the categories one and didn’t forget,” Julian said unconvincingly.

Allison kissed his cheek and announced her category choice: “Flowers! Tim goes first, go!”

“I mean you’ve just made it harder for yourself but marigold.”

“Forget-me-nots!”

 _As if anyone could forget you_. “Sunflower.”

“Gardenia.”

“Lavender, flipping love lavender.”

“Crocus!”

“Daisies!”

Tim called out Aconite and Katrina gave him a ‘What the fuck, Tim’ look as Jaskier took his turn.

“Buttercup!”

“Dandelion.”

“Gladiolus,” Katrina looked smug, trying to one up Tim’s answer.

“Lilac.”

And then both Julian, whose turn it actually was, and Allison, who just got a little too excited, said rose at the exact same time.

“Okay you definitely share the same brain,” Jaskier laughed.

“Same braincell more like- drink up you two, I think that counts as you both messed up.” Nobody argued with Katrina’s bending of the rule.

Tim picked up a seven and, like Petra, played it straight away by throwing his arm up in the air. And the tables turned.

As Jaskier started to raise his arm Geralt scratched his fingers on the man’s side to tickle him which was successful as Jaskier immediately retracted his arm with a screech. Geralt raised his own arm with a smirk and after Tim declared Jaskier as the last person, Jaskier dragged it down with a glare over his shoulder. “Touché.” He downed a shot and picked up a card. “A nine! Trust the musician to get one of these. I better do well um… Fuck!”

“Stuck.”

“Buck,” Katrina smirked as she bucked up her hips and jostled Petra.

She yelped, “Pluck!”

“Luck.”

“Duck! I’m glad no-one said mine.”

“Cuck.”

Jaskier, the little shit that he was, ground down on Geralt’s lap as he smugly said, “Suck.”

Geralt went blank. “ _Fuck_.”

“Uh oh, sweetheart,” Jaskier tutted as he picked up another shot for Geralt

“Fuck. You.” Geralt did not let Jaskier feed him the shot this time; he took it from him, downed it and placed the glass on the table.

Jaskier hummed, ever so pleased. “Please.”

Geralt just rolled his eyes and picked up the next card which he placed down in front of him in plain view for everyone, including Jaskier, to see and even announced it. “Queen. Huh. Jaskier, could you pass me my drink, please?” Geralt asked, pretending that he could not reach it with the man sitting on his lap.

“Of course, darling” and as he reached forward to grab it, he froze and groaned, “God damn it you sneaky bastard!” To spite him, he still picked up Geralt’s drink but instead of handing it to the man, drank a couple of mouthfuls.

However, when Geralt later picked up the final queen of the game, he waited to make his move. A few more cards were picked up before he leant forward slightly and spoke quietly in to Jaskier’s ear. “Zoned out. Whose turn is it?”

He felt Jaskier tense on top of him but even with Jaskier facing away from him, he could see the corner of the man’s mouth curl in to a smirk. “Nice try,” knowing full well what he was doing, Jaskier ground down on Geralt’s lap again and peered over his shoulder to look at him. “Fuck you, Question Master.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Geralt breathed out and immediately reached for his drink to distract himself from the feeling and downing a significant amount of it.

“Hmm,” Jaskier chuckled quietly, “Oh so now you can reach your drink on your own?”

They continued round the circle until there were only two cards left. One of which was the remaining King. And it was Jaskier’s turn.

“Well, here goes it’s a fifty-fifty chance and I’m feeling lu- fuck!”

The King.

Katrina and Petra roared with laughter and Geralt noticed out of the corner of his eye that Tim looked rather smug. That would not fly. Just as Jaskier reached to pick up the dirty pint in the middle of the table Geralt reached over him and stole it, downed it in about seven seconds and placed the stein back on the table.

Everyone stared.

“Uh… Geralt… wins?” Julian broke the silence.

“Oh!” Petra patted Katrina’s arm to get her attention, “What time is it? Is it time for the fireworks?”

“Good shout, P. Come on, we know a good spot to go and watch them.”

As everyone else stood up from the table, Jaskier remained on Geralt long enough for everyone else’s movements to drown out the sound of his thanks. “Thank you my dear,” he smiled as he leant to the side to look at him properly, knowing full well Geralt would use his hand to support him just fine, “But if you were that thirsty-“

“Off you get,” Geralt shifted Jaskier off of his lap and Jaskier stood up with a giggle.

Allison smoothed out her dirndl. “I’m gonna go find a toilet first but I’ll catch you guys up. Julian?”

“Yes?” Both Julian and Jaskier turned to her and spoke in prefect unison. Everyone then turned to look at Jaskier in confusion.

Allison giggled. “I said Julian not Jaskier! Come on, JJ, help me find one.”

With all of the alcohol that was in his system, Jaskier still was not very steady on his feet and started to wobble away after the others when Geralt grabbed his arm. It took him pretty by surprise if they way he looked back at Geralt said anything but Geralt quickly let go and offered his arm instead.

“You look like you’re about to fall over.”

Jaskier looked at Geralt and then his arm and then back to Geralt before he accepted the offer. “What a kind gesture, you beautiful soul.”

Geralt rolled his eyes at how easily pleased the man was and helped him to catch up with the rest of the group. They had made their way down to the river and stopped at a little grassy area near it lined with trees. Katrina and Julian sat down first, parting their legs for their partners to sit between so they could lean back on them for support. Because Tim sat on one end of them rather than in between them, Geralt sat down on the other end, trying to put as much distance in between them as possible. Jaskier plopped himself down next to him, no matter how much he wanted to spread Geralt’s legs and sit between them like the others.

As soon as he sat down the cold, hard ground sent a shiver up his spine. Geralt noticed and untied the shirt from his waist and draped it around Jaskier’s shoulders. “Have this back,” his voice was gruff.

“Oh… thank you…” Jaskier hid his smile by tugging the collar of the shirt up close to his face. He inhaled, weak thing that he was, and maybe it was just the alcohol talking or maybe it was just that fact that Geralt was sitting so close, but he would swear that despite only having worn it for a few hours, the shirt smelt of Geralt. Jaskier decided it was a smell he could quite easily become addicted to.

The fireworks began not long after and the loud cracks and bangs and fizzes married well with the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ from the crowds watching.

Jaskier took a few pictures ready for when his mind was still enough to think of a funny enough caption to upload them with.

“I adore fireworks,” he sighed, dreamlike.

Geralt grunted.

"They're loud and bright and colourful and beautiful and you can sit there and watch them for hours and hours.”

Another grunt. "Not so good if you've got animals though.”

“Hmm?"

"Loud, unpredictable noises can scare animals. Not good for their stress levels.”

"Oh... I've never thought of that." He spoke quieter, "I think I'll only go to silent firework displays from now on.”

Jaskier smiled at him for a few moments before making himself comfortable, resting his head on Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt could swear the fireworks were trapped in Jaskier’s eyes.

At the end of the show, Jaskier was near enough asleep, still on Geralt who had not moved an inch, when they were disturbed by a call from behind them.

“Hey, Jaskier,” both Jaskier and Geralt glanced over their shoulders to see Tim gesturing over his own, “Go try this shot Katrina just bought.”

Geralt frowned as he “I don’t think that’s a g-“

“You shot your mouth!” Jaskier scalded him and wobbled over to the others who welcomed them with open arms and shot glasses.

“Wondered how many shots it would take him to black out,” Tim chuckled to himself when Jaskier was far enough away from them that he would not hear them talk.

Geralt’s fist clenched involuntarily. Tim was purposely wanting to get Jaskier drunk. Why would he risk such a thing like that when he knew what had happened to the last person that tried to mess with Jaskier?

“We’re all going to head to this local club in a bit. It’s a nice place. You should join us. Drop Jaskier off somewhere first of course, he’s too drunk, nowhere’s gonna let him in.”

“I can’t,” Geralt knew his future self would kick his past self for saying what he was about to say next if Jaskier ever found out. He stood up. “I am his body guard.”

“Oh, didn’t realise he was that good of a musician, I might have to actually look him up. Especially if it means I’d get to see you at a gig sometime.”

 _What_? _Wait… fuck. He’s trying to get to me_. Tim had been getting Jaskier drunker and drunker to get him out of the picture. _Fuck. That_. He was about to tell Tim exactly where he could stick it when he heard Jaskier’s voice.

“Geralt!” Geralt looked over in time to catch Jaskier sloppily raising a pointed finger in the air, as if that would have helped to get his attention with his back to him, “Take me to bed!” he giggled.

“I think somebody’s had enough of tonight,” Julian had his arm around Jaskier to keep him steady as he led him over to Geralt. Behind that, Geralt could see Allison and Petra propping each other up and Katrina taking a picture of them.

“I think somebody’s trying to continue the night!” Katrina called over her shoulder with a wink that the Geralt ignored.

“Better do as the master says, Geralt.”

Geralt wanted to punch the smirk right off of Tim’s face but thankfully Jaskier inadvertently stepped right in to distract him. Rather, he launched himself towards Geralt who luckily caught him effortlessly.

“Did you say goodbye?” Geralt asked as he stood Jaskier on the floor again.

“Yes, right before I told them that I knew you’d catch me if I ran at you but,” he span round quickly which led to a stumble that again, Geralt caught, “Goodbye, darlings! I’ll reply to any queries in the group chat at my earliest convenience! Lovely to meet you all!”

“Oh well don’t inconvenience yourself, Jaskier, we know you might be a little too preoccupied.” Katrina smirked as the rest of the group called out their farewells mixed with giggles. 

“Remember what I said, Geralt, I’ll see you later, yeah?” Tim winked.

Tim may have helped them out and got them a roof over their head for the night, but Geralt would be damned if he let the man share a bed with either of them. He did not dignify it with a response, he just hoisted Jaskier up to lay over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry much to everyone’s surprise, most of all Jaskier’s. Though it was not at Geralt’s strength because that much was obvious from just the sight of him. No, it was much more of the fact that he had done it out of the blue. And it was sort of very hot. Absolutely no complaints from Jaskier.

The maps application on his phone told Geralt the hostel was about a seven minute walk away, but they took eleven because Jaskier thought twice that he was going to throw up. He did not throw up either time, so the back of Geralt’s shirt was saved.

The building looked fairly old, one of the newer ones than the ones that surrounded it, possibly, but it was well persevered and the inside was clean and cosy. The woman on the front desk looked old, possibly even as old as the building if the lines on her face that marked the years of wear and tear were anything to go by.

“The name’s Geralt-“

“And Jaskier!” Jaskier piped up as he threw a hand in the air, still balancing on Geralt’s shoulder.

Geralt just grunted and held him a little tighter to make sure the man did not wriggle so much that he fell off. “Tim said he’d called you to book a couple of beds for us?”

“You tell my grandson I told him that last time was the last time,” she huffed and flipped the page of a particularly heavy book that looked like it listed every single booking from the last fifty years and then some. A noise from Jaskier made her glance up from the book to look Geralt up and down. And Jaskier’s arse. “Why is he over your shoulder.”

“He’s… tired.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and slid the card machine across the desk to him. Two beds in a shared room with other people came to a hundred and twenty euros and Geralt did not think twice about it. It was late, peak tourist time and here he was dragging in someone as drunk as a sailor. Geralt would have paid a thousand euros just to get Jaskier to somewhere where he could sleep before it ended up being the floor or a toilet.

“Remember it’s a common area,” the woman warned him after he had thanked her and shoved his card back in to his pocket.

Geralt just gave her a curt nod and readjusted Jaskier’s position on his shoulder slightly. As Geralt carried him off in the direction of the room, the woman called out to him in German, so he could not fully understand but assumed it was something along the lines of ‘If that bastard vomits everywhere’. Most people were either already asleep in their rooms or still out enjoying the festivities as they did not come across another person as they walked through the halls and by the looks of their own room when Geralt eventually found it and opened the door, it was the latter of the two.

“Come on, down you get,” Geralt tried to put Jaskier down carefully, but as he did so, Jaskier’s nails raked up Geralt’s back, hiking up his shirt. “Easy tiger, retract your claws.”

“Hah, ‘tiger’,” Jaskier giggled to himself as he was put down.

With Jaskier safely on the floor, Geralt turned round to close the door and look for the light switch. However, just as he reached for it, he decided against it, just in case there was someone in the room already trying to sleep. And then suddenly Jaskier was pressed up against Geralt’s back, his arms snaking around his chest.

“Geralt…” Jaskier’s breath was fire hot against Geralt’s neck. “My hero…” the words warmed directly in to Geralt’s blood stream as Jaskier mouthed against the skin. He could smell the alcohol on Jaskier’s breath.

_Alcohol._

“Jaskier…” Geralt’s voice was low, an attempt at a warning that was dragged out in to a groan as he instinctively arched his neck the higher Jaskier’s lips moved. The touch was soft but his lips were rough, dehydrated from the alcohol.

_Alcohol._

“Jaskier…” Geralt reached out behind him to place his hands on Jaskier’s hips. At first it was an attempt to push him away without having to turn around because he knew what would happen if they were face to face. But then he felt Jaskier tug down on his arms as if to help hoist himself higher, giving him something to balance against as he tilted on to his tiptoes to reach Geralt’s jawbone. The man’s touches were getting less gentle and more desperate as the alcohol fuelled his confidence.

_Alcohol._

“Jaskier,” Geralt’s eyelids suddenly felt unbelievably heavy and they fluttered shut but-

_Alcohol._

The feeling of teeth grazing at the scruff along his jaw snapped him out of it. “Hey, Jaskier, no,” he quickly moved his hands from Jaskier’s waist and spun round to cup the man’s face on either side, trying to ground them both. “You’re very drunk, we’re not doing this, okay?”

“It’s okay, Geralt,” Jaskier smiled up at him for reassurance, “I want this. _You_.”

If Geralt needed any more proof of how drunk Jaskier was and more of an incentive to stop whatever this was in its track, it was the fact in what he could only assume was Jaskier trying to show a sweet gesture of brushing a lock of hair behind his ear ended up with him being poked in the eye. It hurt a little, but Geralt chuckled it off. “I’m not blind. Yet. But you are drunk.”

Jaskier chuckled. “My knight in shining armour,” he stared back at him with blown wide pupils just about showing through heavy lidded eyes. He turned his face to bury it in to Geralt’s hand. “So noble,” his voice muffled against the palm.

The thumb of Geralt’s other hand brushed gently over Jaskier’s ear. “You won’t be saying that in the morning. Come on. Get in to bed. Your one’s that one over there-“

“Now you’re talking,” Jaskier somehow found another burst of energy and took Geralt’s hand to lead him over to the bed.

After a couple of steps forward Geralt stopped moving and slipped his hand from Jaskier’s. “And mine’s over here.”

Jaskier’s frown due to the lack of a hand in his own, turned to a frown of consideration as he looked back, titling his head to one side. “Yours looks bigger.”

“They’re both the-“ he stopped himself when he saw Jaskier’s growing smirk, “You- are a brat,” he shook his head as he breathed out a laugh, “Go on. Go to bed.”

Jaskier fell back on to his mattress and looked up at Geralt with wide, dangerously pleading eyes as he smoothed over the duvet with his hand to show Geralt there was a perfect space for him to fill. “Only if you join me.”

Geralt sighed and folded his arms. “Tempting but-“

Even in the dark Geralt could see Jaskier’s eyes light up with glee. “I tempt you.”

“Like a siren luring a sailor to his death.”

Jaskier hummed with glee and held his arms open wide. “Well then, come here, sailor.”

It was difficult to ignore the fact that the huskiness of Jaskier’s voice as he spoke sent a shiver up Geralt’s spine, but ignore it he would. He cleared his throat. “Tell you what, Jaskier-“

“Yes, Captain?” He gave a mock salute after shuffling a bit higher up the bed so that he was propped up by pillows.

“You get undressed to sleep and get under the covers and I’ll just go and get our things from Roach and when I come back-“

“Sails away!”

Geralt did not correct the saying, and instead just nodded. “I’ll be back in a bit. Remember what I said.”

“Yes, _sir_.” Another mock salute and the bastard knew exactly what he was doing by calling Geralt that in that way.

But Geralt ignored it, not looking back on the undressing Jaskier he left behind and closed the door to the room behind him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed, his back hitting the door when he slumped back against it.

_You drunk lots too. This is just the alcohol in your system. Gone by morning._

The cold air outside was sobering and the fine mist of rain even more so. He was warm, very warm, so he welcomed it. Geralt tried everything in his power to not think about what had just happened, how he had reacted to it, but every little thing he saw somehow reminded him of Jaskier. It was fucking annoying. He was fucking annoying.

Due to how fast he had stormed off on the way to the car and how slowly he had walked back to try and delay dealing with whatever was waiting for him when he returned, the walk there and back took about twenty minutes in total.

Geralt had to brace himself as he placed his hand on the door handle.

A deep breath.

 _Please be asleep_.

It was still dark in the room. Darker, even, but Geralt could hear a couple of quiet snores and made out a couple of body-like shapes in nearby beds. He shut the door carefully behind him.

"Geralt?" The voice was quiet but unmistakably Jaskier’s.

A small sigh. ”Present," Geralt whispered as he knelt down beside Jaskier's bed, placing their bags next to him on the floor.

"He's been calling out for you for the past ten minutes," someone from another bed in the room complained and Geralt glanced over just in time to see their glare before they rolled over and settled back down again.

"Sorry," he muttered and turned his attention back to Jaskier. He had knelt down on the side of the bed that Jaskier had his back to as it had been the closest and as soon as the man had heard his voice near him he had rolled over. Geralt was surprised but also incredibly relieved when there were no grabby hands trying to get at him.

"You came back," the hope in Jaskier's voice told Geralt that the words would he been accompanied with a beam, but he was too tired to manage anything more than a small smile. Geralt was also glad that the nautical theme had apparently been forgotten.

"Said I would.”

"Yes, but you didn't have to.”

Geralt knew what he was referring to and decided to ignore it. Not now. "Did. Contrary to popular belief, Jaskier, and no matter how much I threaten you with it, I'm not going to leave you stranded somewhere without your things," he patted the bag next to him.

Jaskier smiled and reached out to cup Geralt's cheek for a moment. "I know.”

Geralt let silence fall between them for a few moments, much appreciated by the other people in the room. He could see the hand in the corner of his eye. ”You’re not going to remember any of this tomorrow are you?”

"Where's Tim?” Jaskier took his hand back. “I think Tim liked you. The bastard.”

“Bastard? You liked him.”

“No he liked you," Jaskier whined and pulled the duvet over his head for a moment before pulling it down far enough to reveal his eyes. "Wanna know a secret?”

"I don't know, do I?”

"Don't be difficult, I'm being vun.... vun? Vulnerable.”

"Don't hurt yourself," Geralt snorted and Jaskier quickly pulled the covers over his head. But he was genuinely curious so he pulled enough of it down to see Jaskier's face.

"The waitress in the pub…” Jaskier stared back at him but looked a little embarrassed - Geralt could tell his face would have been flushed in the light, “I didn't want you to go back to her. Jealous…”

Geralt frowned a little, trying hard not to react too much to anything Jaskier said incase the man decided to make a drunk scene in the middle of a room full of sleeping people. “But you wanted me to message that barista.”

“Different then,” he managed before going back to biting the side of his mouth.

Geralt tapped Jaskier’s cheek lightly to try and stop him from chewing at it, otherwise it would be sore in the morning. “You’re just tired.”

“No, I’m Jaskier!” Jaskier sounded incredibly offended that Geralt would even dare to forget his name but with a long, drawn out yawn, any annoyance was quickly forgotten. He tucked his face in to his pillow and Geralt tugged up the duvet to rest a little higher. They were barely audible and very slurred due to alcohol and tiredness, but Jaskier’s final words for the night were: “Thank you for coming back.”

Silence again.

Geralt watched as the material moved up and down ever so slightly as Jaskier breathed in and out.

“You’re not going to remember any of this in the morning, are you?” Geralt repeated himself.

Silence. Nothing. Not a sleepy moan nor snore.

He could probably have knelt there for hours watching the man sleep, he looked so peaceful and it was surprisingly relaxing breathing in time with the small movement cues. He probably would have stayed there too, until he realised it was probably rather creepy to watch somebody else sleep. He stood up and grabbed his own bag, tucking Jaskier’s a little closer to the bed by sliding it with his foot.

He was about to go to his own bed when he paused for a moment and glanced back over his shoulder to steal another look. Jaskier curled up a little tighter with a quiet groan.

“You are… a firework.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is the table order for those of you who struggle to visualise things like i do (i had to write it down three different ways to get it right): Tim Jaskier Geralt Katrina Petra Julian Allison
> 
> also i spent about an hour picking out the flower choices for each character because i like the language of flowers https://www.flowermeaning.com
> 
> so i feared i would not finish this chapter or that it would be terrible and i would end up hating it because i did not have anything planned but i think this is the chapter i had the most fun writing and it all just flowed out i hope it’s the same with the other chapter i am even more worried about writing
> 
> i started this project to try and prove some things to myself - that i could still write and that my braincells were not dying and i can still work on a long term project even with a poor attention span and although there have been some major motivation setbacks for various reasons and i know this is not the greatest fic or the most popular but you guys have made it so much easier to write and so much more enjoyable
> 
> i had a particularly horrible week after i posted the last chapter and getting notifications from ao3 helped me through it so much it astounds me that people would take time out of their day to stop and write something so nice on my work and genuinely makes me so emotional and makes spending all of my free time on this project so worth it i cannot thank you enough
> 
> follow me on tumblr for updates when i actually remember to update - zeebeebrown
> 
> Song used: Hard To Be The Bard - Wayne Kirkpatrick


	9. You should have just caught a flight. -Y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you dropped blood anywhere, you’re cleaning the whole car.”
> 
> “So for one tiny droplet of blood you’d make my poor, injured self clean the whole damn car?”
> 
> “Did I stutter.”
> 
> “Well in that case I’ll make sure I’m wearing my skimpiest of shorts and crop tops while I work the hose.”

More often than he would care to admit, Jaskier would find himself waking up in a bed somewhere that he did not recognise. And it was certainly the case for that morning. Hands balled in to fists, he rubbed at his eyes and carefully peeled them open to see some unfamiliar bedding. Geralt must have found a hotel last night. He was just thinking about how lucky they were to actually find somewhere when it was clearly so busy in the city yesterday, when he looked up from the bed to notice other beds in the room and oh God…

A _hostel_?!

Jaskier shuddered. Geralt knew that he would rather spent a freezing night hunkered down in the back of Roach than visit a _hostel_. Though he was overlooking the fact that none of his fears about hostels had come true that night and he had in fact had quite a pleasant sleep.

He looked around to the other beds, ready to scald Geralt on sight. “Geralt?” he called out, looking for any sign of movement when he could not immediately see him.

“Christ we’re not going through this again, are we?”

Jaskier looked over to the light source in the room; a big window that had just had the curtains pulled back from it to let in more light. That must have been what had woke him up. Jaskier squinted, trying to make out the person standing next to it and rubbed at his eyes again.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” The man, whose apology did not sound very genuine, walked away from the window and back to the bed that must have been his for the night. “Good. You kept me up last night with your pining and sickening little heart to heart so this is payback.”

 _Heart to heart_? Jaskier looked down to the side of his bed to see his bag half hidden by the duvet but when he quickly looked around the room again, he could see none of Geralt’s belongings in sight.

“I’m sorry for keeping you up last night, but have you seen-“

“The guy who looked like he could part the Red Sea with a sneeze? Pretty hard to miss. Packed up his things and left without you about an hour ago.” He clearly held more importance in sleep than sparing Jaskier’s feelings. “Don’t blame him either…” he added in a mutter under his breath as he hoisted a rucksack on to his shoulders. “Sure hope none of your plans revolved around him because he certainly did not look like he was coming back anytime soon. Well, good luck!” The man’s parting words stuck with him long after the door had closed behind him.

Geralt was… gone?

There had always been a worry in the back of Jaskier’s head that Geralt would just up and leave at any moment he saw fit, but the rest of him had had the hope that it would never be the case, that they were growing closer and not further apart. A small part of him had even hoped that maybe, just maybe…

At least Geralt had had the heart to make sure that he had his belongings before he

Jaskier jumped out of the bed and dropped to the floor to check underneath the frame. The bastard! He had taken his guitar! The sinking, sickening feeling in his stomach only grew when the realisation hit him that he must have done or said something truly terrible last night for Geralt to walk away and leave him without it, knowing how much it meant to him. He knew that the man had threatened to before, but those times Jaskier knew were only in jest. This time however…

 _It’s your fault_ …

Jaskier got up from the floor and toppled himself backwards on to the bed with a light thump, limbs spread out, trying to take up as much space as possible whilst he felt so small and insignificant.

That guitar was his prized possession, he genuinely believed it brought him luck and his notebook with all of his scrawlings about the songs he was in the middle of writing was tucked away inside the case combining to a total of years of work. But tell him why, despite it’s significance, he cared less for the loss of his beloved instrument, than the fact that he had lost Geralt. The fact that he had given Geralt a reason to leave.

 _It was only a matter of time_ …

Not even worthy of a text message to explain why he had left. It must have been bad.

The feeling in his stomach expanded across his chest, making his lungs feel tight. For someone who never got hangovers, he was feeling very close to vomiting. He rolled on to his side with a groan and curled in to a ball. Perhaps the cleaners would come and take him away with the rest of the rubbish.

 _Oh_. They arrived sooner than he expected because not long after the thought entered his head he heard a key in the door.

“Give me a minute and I’ll-“ Jaskier frowned, “Geralt?”

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Jaskier scrambled on the bed to sit up properly, hoping Geralt had not taken note of the fact that he had been in the foetal position. “Where-“ _No, don’t sound desperate…_ He reverted back to his original plan. “You brought me to a _hostel_?”

“I’d ask you how slept but judging by the fact that you look like you woke up five minutes ago, I’d say you slept pretty well,” he sat down on the end of Jaskier’s bed with a smirk, “So you’re welcome.”

“Can’t believe you made me stay in a hostel,” he muttered under his breath with a roll of his eyes, anything to stop himself from beaming with relief at the fact that Geralt had actually come back.

“Get over yourself, princess,” Geralt huffed and began taking things out of the tote bag he had brought in with him and placing them on the bed. “You’re lucky I let you sleep so long. We were supposed to have left here about four hours ago.”

“Yes well…” he trailed off, distracted as he watched Geralt pull things out of the bag one by one like the world’s least enthusiastic magician. “You’re the one who didn’t wake me up and-“ he shook his head, “What have you-“

“I slept in,” Geralt lied. “When I woke up, you were still asleep so I went out and anticipated what you might have wanted so uh… hmm,” he grunted as he emptied the last couple of things from the bag.

A bottle of water for rehydration. A smoothie to help counteract all of the crap he had put in to his body yesterday. A bottle of cold brew coffee because coffee was a good morning drink and Jaskier had picked the same brand out the other day so Geralt knew he liked it and would drink it. A packet of painkillers because surely Jaskier’s head must feel like a watermelon with a thousand rubber bands around it after drinking that much alcohol. A small punnet of strawberries because Jaskier seemed like a strawberry kind of person. A couple of apples too, for selfish reasons; he had mainly picked those for himself. And then there was the baked goods all from the same bakery; some various pastries including a warm, filled croissant.

“You…” he looked back up at Geralt, eyes wide, “Bought me breakfast?” He picked up a strawberry and rolled it between his fingers, admiring how red it was. Were strawberries always this red or was he ignoring the fact he was currently donning rose tinted glasses. “I don’t think anyone I’ve dated has ever made or bought me breakfast…” He took a bite and hummed with delight at the taste.

 _That’s because you’re dating the wrong people._ “We’re not dating.”

Jaskier was an incredibly good actor as he showed not a single hint that his bubble had been well and truly popped. The strawberries looked a little bit more dull so he picked up the coffee instead. “You know what I meant.”

Geralt grunted and nodded towards the painkillers. “How’s your head?”

“I haven’t had any complaints,” he replied nonchalantly, only looking back up at Geralt after he had picked up another strawberry to pop in his mouth. Geralt was staring right back at him with a confused look on his face which made Jaskier roll his eyes with a small sigh. _What a waste._ “I told you Geralt, I don’t get hangovers. I feel completely fine and dandy. Could easily go out for a five mile run-“ he noted Geralt’s change of expression and quickly corrected himself, “Walk. Five mile walk. I’m not running anywhere. Don’t make me run.”

Geralt huffed a laugh, as if he would ever dream of putting himself through what he imagined the torture of making Jaskier go on a run would be. “Eat up. It’ll be cold in a minute.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Jaskier put down the stalk for his latest strawberry and picked up the croissant as prompted and _holy shit_ , it was good. “Sweet lord, good choice Geralt,” Jaskier was practically drooling as he devoured it.

Geralt had started his morning by waking up at six the same as he always did and immediately looked over to Jaskier’s bed. He was not sure what exactly he had expected to see apart from the man curled up still peacefully asleep, but either way, he was relieved to see it. He checked his phone mainly to see the time (as if it would be any other time) and did not reply to any of his emails or text messages bar one from Yennefer and even then it was a two word response. Despite his wanting to leave Berlin as early as possible, he found himself staring at the ceiling for half an hour, driving himself mad listening to his own thoughts which were an annoying rendition of the ones he had before he had fallen asleep. So he got up, got dressed, packed his things away setting off for a walk. At first he had only meant to walk back to Roach to drop his things off and then he was going to walk back to the hostel to wake Jaskier up, had he not already been woken up by the rest of the hostel go-ers in the room. But on the walk back to the hostel he just kept… walking. And walking. And walking. In fact, he wandered through Berlin for about just over an hour with just his thoughts for company before they told him that he should probably head back in case Jaskier had woken up. He was usually very good with remembering directions to places even if he had only visited there once and he managed to retrace his steps pretty well until he fell at the final hurdle and took a wrong turning. Although, it was not too bad of a choice, as he happened to stumble across a small building with a familiar sounding name. Katrina’s bakery. Before he decided to step in to the place, he peered inside through the window to make sure Tim was not in sight and on the all clear, pushed open the door which gave out a little chime. It was safe to say that both Katrina and Petra were thoroughly surprised to not only see Geralt again, but to see him alone and Katrina did not waste time in asking if Jaskier’s absence was due to the fact that he was currently unable to walk. Geralt decided to address Petra instead, who giggled at it, but was much less presumptuously crude. They offered to make a little parcel of their popular items for him to take away and told him to come back in about ten minutes when it would be ready. Rather than standing about waiting and receiving an interrogation from the women, he thanked them and left the bakery in search of more supplies for a substantial breakfast. He returned, bag in hand, just as Petra was placing the parcel on the counter, ready for him to pick up. And then, of course, warm goods in tow, he returned to the hostel, bumping in to the disgruntled room mate from the night before, and opened the door to find a very sorry looking Jaskier curled up on the bed.

“It’s from Katrina’s place. All of the baked stuff is. They picked it out.” He raised a brow as he watched Jaskier purposefully wrinkle up parts of the bedding and rearrange the breakfast.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he told Geralt off, despite Geralt not even realising that he had been looking a certain way, “Like I said to your wife, I have a substantial following on my social media accounts. Ergo, I take a nice picture of Katrina’s food and post it to Instagram with a tag and bam, publicity for her. Because, Christ,” he took another bite and mumbled around the mouthful like he had not been raised any better, “She deserves it.”

Geralt hummed with a small nod of agreement; the bakery looked pretty immaculate and smelled divine and if Jaskier’s reaction was anything to go by, tasted so too. “Ex-wife,” he eventually corrected him when the word registered about thirty seconds later.

Jaskier chuckled at the sudden interruption to the contented silence. “Hey Geralt?” He received an acknowledging hum in return as the man screwed back on the cap to a second bottle of water. “Do me a favour-“ an apprehensive look in return now, “Eat something. Help me out. It would be a shame for any of this to go to waste.”

There was another short grunt-hum as Geralt considered it, ignoring the look on Jaskier’s face; a soft plea that looked fuelled with worry as if he had never seen Geralt eat anything before and that he might waste away which was unjustified because he had finished off Jaskier’s food last night. But he would rather not bring that up, he decided, and picked up one of the pastries to humour him.

It seemed to work because they ate in a silence that did not feel awkward to Jaskier (he had good food and good company), but a silence that felt very awkward to Geralt.

_Last night._

_Is he waiting for me to bring it up?_

_Does he want me to bring it up?_

_He doesn’t exactly seem embarrassed by what happened._

_Does he think things are different now he isn’t drunk?_

_Why hasn’t he brought it up?_

_He isn’t even really looking at me any different than before._

_Does he even remember?_

_Do I want him to remember?_

As Geralt pushed back his hair to avoid getting any more crumbs in it, Jaskier’s eyes were immediately drawn to a certain mark.

“Your jaw!” he exclaimed, neglecting to drop his second pastry when he grabbed Geralt’s chin.

 _This is it._ Geralt did not move an inch, thinking that the sight of the bruise must have triggered the memory of last night for Jaskier and now they had to have the awkward conversation about it.

Jaskier tilted Geralt’s head to the side to get a better look at the faint bruise just under the man’s jaw bone. “What on Earth did you get up to last night?” When he was met with a blank stare Jaskier tutted and let go of Geralt. ‘Or should I say who.”

It was almost as if Jaskier’s touch made him unable to speak, because when the man finally let go, Geralt found his words.”Thought you said you didn’t want me thinking of you as a ‘party animal’?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and picked at flakes of pastry that had fallen on to the sheets. “Alas, I may be able to drink as much as I want without having to deal with any ailments the following morn, but my memory does tend to get a little bit… uh… patchy, when it comes to remembering the events of the night before.” He noted that Geralt did not look impressed, not disgusted, more… Was that relief? Strange. “I remember we were playing a drinking game around the table? I think it was Never Have I Ever, but by the looks of your neck I’m going to try and fit the pieces together and say it then led to… Truth or Dare?”

 _There’s your out_. Geralt nodded and shoved another bite in to his mouth to avoid talking.

Jaskier tutted again with a shake of his head, picking up another strawberry to roll between his fingers. “Well I, as you well know, am an open book, so I suppose I kept asking for dares rather than truths. But, pray tell, who on Earth gave you that,” P _lease don’t let it be Tim_ , “And how drunk were you to let them?”

 _Not drunk enough_. “Doesn’t matter.” That was the only answer he was willing to give as he made it look like he was far too preoccupied with eating his breakfast to give a more helpful one.

And by the looks of it, no matter how much it was tearing up Jaskier’s insides, he would have to take it. The man just sort of nodded in acceptance, deciding not to press the issue any further letting them both continue to eat their breakfast in silence. An equally awkward silence.

A while later an alarm trilled on Geralt’s phone and Jaskier watched over the top of the bottle of cold brew he was currently drinking, as Geralt took it from his pocket, frowned and silenced it.

“How much of a warning do you need to get ready?” He asked, putting the phone away.

“Hmm…” Jaskier spent a moment calculating, factoring in how full he felt from eating such a delicious breakfast. “I’d predict a solid forty minutes.”

“Well you’ve got thirty.”

Excuse me?!” Jaskier spluttered, luckily he had already swallowed the last mouthful of the coffee, otherwise it would have ended in a much messier outcome, but still a droplet from the rim of the bottle fell on to his chin.

Geralt, with his lightning fast reflexes reached out his thumb to catch the droplet before it fell any further and Jaskier’s heart immediately stopped as if the move had been for any other reason thanto stop the coffee from dropping on to the bedsheets and staining them.

Geralt was not blind; he noticed the look in Jaskier’s eye and had felt the man flinch and now he was internally panicking that _that_ has somehow triggered the memory of last night for Jaskier. And that internal panic had him at a loss for what to do with his now wet thumb.

If Jaskier’s heart had stopped at that, it now felt as if someone had shouted ‘Charge! 360! Clear!’ and the biggest jolt of electricity surged through him as he watched the man before him suck the droplet from his thumb in what looked like, to Jaskier’s blissfully unaware mind, a blatant disregard of the pile of paper serviettes between them.

As soon as the taste hit his tongue, Geralt realised what he had done and immediately rose from the bed and started walking towards the door, only pausing to look over his shoulder and say, “Twenty nine minutes. I’ll wait for you outside.”

“Or you could just-“ the door shut behind Geralt, “Stay..”

 _Holy shit._ Geralt’s back hit the door with a light thud much like the night before. He needed to stop putting himself in these situations.

 _Holy shit._ Jaskier began to run on autopilot mode, far too occupied with his own thoughts to put any sense of control in to getting ready.

_What the ever-loving fuck was that._

_That bastard knew what he was doing._

_Who goes from shooting down every semblance of flirting to practically licking my face?!_

_Okay, calm down, he didn’t lick your face._

_But still, when did he get so comfortable?_

_Did something… happen last night?_

_No, he would have said something, surely?_

_If something happened last night and I made a move he would have brought it up this morning so that he could tell me off._

_But what if… he was the one to make the move?_

_And he’s embarrassed about it._

_Because of course he would be._

_…But he didn’t seem embarrassed._

_He bought me breakfast…_

_Did I…?_

_No. He was just trying to spare my feelings._

Half an hour later on the dot, Jaskier was somehow ready with his bags in hand and grateful to leave the hostel room in the hopes of never having to return to one. His conversation with himself allowed him to put the events of this morning and the… possible events of the night before behind him and he greeted a patiently waiting Geralt with a grin.

“See? Half an hour to get ready and I still look damn good.”

Geralt was unusually engrossed in his phone and probably would not have noticed Jaskier’s arrival in to the lobby without the announcement. He glanced up from his phone when the man was near enough and had to look back a fraction of a second later to take in the loud, geometric print of his shirt. “Hm. Hopefully that means you’ll reduce your morning routine from now on.”

Jaskier frowned ever so slightly at the realisation that that was the final morning that they would share together. _Is that why he bought me breakfast_? “Yeah, well, don’t worry, you won’t have to put up with it much longer,” he grumbled, taking on a tone very much similar to Geralt’s and started heading towards the door.

Geralt just rolled his eyes and took Jaskier’s bag of belongings from him, following along behind, as well as the bag containing the rest of the breakfast. It restored Jaskier’s smile, however, he did have to let Geralt take the lead the second they were out of the building because Jaskier had no bloody clue how to get back to Roach.

About three hours in to their final drive together and despite their pleasantly flowing conversation, Geralt had still neglected to ask Jaskier where exactly his Grandmother lived and was just sort of… driving. Admittedly it was in the right direction (or so Jaskier assumed) because he started to recognise the names of places on the signs they passed. Still, to further distract from the topic, once they reached a particularly quiet road Jaskier reached over his seat to grab his guitar.

Geralt did not pass comment on it until Jaskier’s backside was safely back in his seat. “What did I say about playing that in the car?”

“I believe the words were,” he gave a practice strum, “‘Oh my God, Jaskier, you’re so talented, I’ll have to hire you to sit in my car all the time and by my personal radio.”

“You know, the more I think about it, the more I agree with that waitress at the pub- you should change your stage name to ‘Egotistical Bastard’.”

Jaskier scoffed and played the first several notes of ‘Toxic’ as a warning which worked because Geralt pulled a face that made it very apparent there would be no more remarks from him.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, you old git,” Jaskier chuckled and tore his adoring gaze from Geralt for long enough that he thought of song to sing.

_“There will come a soldier_

_Who carries a mighty sword_

_He will tear your city down, o lei o lai o lord_

_O lei, o lai, o lei, o lord_

_He will tear your city down, o lei o lai o lord.”_

He frowned ever so slightly at the end of the first verse and paused so that he could tighten one of the strings, testing the sound a few times before he was satisfied enough to continue.

“ _There will come a poet_

_Whose weapon is his word_

_He will slay you with his tongue, o lei o lai o lord_

_O lei, o lai, o lei, o lord_

_He will slay you with his tongue, o lei o lai-_ Oh my fucking lord!”

The loud twang that sounded far more gut wrenching than the last time it had made a similar sound, paired with Jaskier’s yelp immediately triggered Geralt to swerve in to a helpfully close lay-by. “What’s wrong?” he frowned as he noticed something lightly tickling his arm and glanced down to see a very out of place guitar string.

“I uh… hmm,” Jaskier sighed as he turned his hand to show Geralt the blood that was slowly trickling down it. “Hey wait where are you going?” he asked as Geralt unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. “Are you afraid of blood?” Jaskier found it hard to believe given the man’s previous profession, but he could see no other explanation for him exiting the car that quickly.

He heard the boot open and close and Geralt returned just as Jaskier was unbuckling his own seatbelt to go and look for him. “Oh…” he noted the first aid kit in Geralt’s hands as the man got back in to his seat.

“Don’t get blood everywhere,” Geralt mumbled as he rifled through the box.

Jaskier just nodded and held his hand a little higher in the air.

But then Geralt took Jaskier’s hand in to his own with such care that Jaskier’s breath hitched which luckily could have just been passed off as him flinching in anticipation for the pain, even if it was just a small wound. It was believable. Jaskier did not even notice Geralt rip open an antiseptic wipe with his teeth because he was too focused on how something so rough and calloused could feel as if it was being so gentle. It did not take a detective to decipher that hose hands had been forged from years of hard work. There was something so intimate about having your hand held like that and oh, how nice they would feel if Geralt would just

“Ow! Fuck! Christ, that stings!” Jaskier hissed, sprung from his thoughts as Geralt dabbed away at the cut with the wipe, a slight smirk on his face.

“Looks like Toruviel agrees with me.”

“Excuse me?” Jaskier asked for clarification as Geralt ripped open a plaster, partly because he did not understand what he had meant by that and partly because he was so surprised that Geralt had actually remembered what he had called his guitar. He had only ever mentioned the name twice and it was a fairly unusual one to remember.

Geralt’s eyes flicked up to meet Jaskier’s still smirking as he smoothed down the plaster over the half inch cut, “You shouldn’t be playing your guitar in the car.”

“Yes, yes, what a poet,” Jaskier narrowed his eyes in an attempt to sneer, but it was dampened by his inability to hold back a smile. He took his hand away from Geralt’s in protest in a rushed decision that he instantly regretted as he realised that even after the plaster was properly applied, Geralt had not let go of his hand. He silently cursed himself.

“If you dropped blood anywhere,” Geralt readjusted in his seat, blissfully unaware of the mental flogging occurring next to him, and started Roach’s engine back up, “You’re cleaning the whole car.”

“So for one tiny droplet of blood you’d make my poor, injured self clean the whole damn car?”

“Did I stutter.”

“Well in that case,” now it was Jaskier’s time to smirk, “I’ll make sure I’m wearing my skimpiest of shorts and crop tops while I work the hose.”

Geralt snorted in amusement, but Jaskier noted the slightest of flushes on the man’s face and settled back in to his chair proudly.

With Toruviel out of action, Jaskier decided that it was probably time to lay her to rest for the day, and unwound the broken string from the head of the guitar, vowing to take the bridge half out and replace the string when he returned home, since, the same as his picks, he had neglected to bring any spares with him. He noticed a piece of paper sticking out from one of the front pockets of the case.

“Ha! I forgot about this!” Jaskier exclaimed with glee as he pulled out the crossword he had collected from the coffee shop along with a pen hidden deep in the bottom of the pocket. “Right,” he huffed as he sat back down in his seat. Let’s see… One down, eight letters: Hilary Mantel’s fictional biography of Thomas Cromwell. Oh that’s easy it’s Wolf Hall- I’ve got the other two books that follow it sitting on my shelf at home waiting to be read, but I never have the time.”

“Could have brought one with you or you know, just stayed home rather than travelling across Europe with a stranger.”

“Five across. Six letters. Planet with the most moons- Saturn! It has loads. Fun fact, Saturn is one of my favourite planets. I think Neptune is my top favourite though because it’s always depicted as the most gorgeous colour.”

“Surprised it’s not Uranus.”

“I stand corrected, my favourite planet is _Ur_ anus.” Jaskier snorted and crossed out the clue after writing down the answer. “Thirteen down. National instrument of Ireland. I’m pretty sure it’s… ah, yep! It fits! Celtic harp. My grandmother- not the uh, Polish one- she used to have the most _gorgeous_ harp and I’d lie on the floor plucking at it, begging for her to teach me. I’ll have to see if I can get it out of storage…”

“Are you not answering these in order?”

“Where’s the fun in that? “

“Because if you answer them in order they’ll help you with the answers to the other questions near them.”

“Ah, well, I do love a good hard mode.”

 _I bet_.

“Hmm… fifteen down. Twelve letters. Regency dandy credited with establishing the modern men’s suit… I believe that was Beau Brummell. And yep, right again! God, I’m good at this.”

 _Of course you would know that._ “You’re only saying the ones you know out loud so that you can sound smart.” It was working, but that was beside Geralt’s point.

“Okay then, let me find one you might know…” he skimmed the list and eventually exclaimed, “Aha! Twenty-one down, five letters: Alcohol paired with orange juice to make a Screwdriver.”

Geralt smirked slightly, amused that that was a clue. “Vodka.”

“There you go, big guy, so smart!” He clasped Geralt on the shoulder earning himself a quick glare, but Jaskier just grinned right back and carried on with his crossword. “Okay there’s a few I think I’m going to have to cheat on. I mean: Removal of all or part of a tongue? I’m not a doctor so how on Earth w-“

“Glossectomy.”

Jaskier blinked.

“Would it get you to shut up if I said the reason I know that is because I’ll threaten to book you in for one?”

“Negative I’m afraid.” He smiled as soon as Geralt’s mouth twitched in to one. “Okay smart-arse, what about… The name of the plant that can be manipulated to change colour when growing? The chameleon plant? Ooh, it is nine letters…”

“Hydrangea. Depends on the pH of the soil as to how much aluminium it can absorb. So in theory, if you plant one on top of a dead body, as it decays it’ll change the colour of the flower.”

“I am…” he shook his head in disbelief, still writing it down, “I am not going to ask how you know _that_.”

“Just another threat.”

Jaskier could have sworn he saw Geralt wink after that, but he knew better; Geralt was certainly not a winking person. He cleared his throat and turned back to the crossword the moment Geralt’s expression turned to a frown.

“Hmm… An electric generator that produces a constantly changing current.”

“Fuck. Alternator.”

“I mean there’s not need to swea- oh shit wow, it fits, well done.”

“No, the fucking alternator’s just gone.”

And sure enough, Roach ground to a halt in the middle of the road.

“Oh…”

“ _Fuck_.”

“How do you know it’s the alternator?” Again, not that Jaskier knew anything about cars, he was just surprised that Geralt could diagnose it so quickly.

“Call it a fucking hunch,” Geralt replied in a tone far less curious, more incredibly pissed off as he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car.

Jaskier quickly scrambled to follow. “Do you want me to do anything? Do you want me to help push it?” He was eager to help in any way that he could, hoping that even the offer might help to serve to calm Geralt down a bit.

Unbeknownst to Geralt, it subconsciously worked. He sighed, a little bit of tension easing from him and rubbed a hand over his face as he stood at the back of the car. “No. Get in my seat and steer it. Keep it in neutral.”

“I mean I wouldn’t know how to change it but okay.” He hurried over to the drivers side and sat down in Geralt’s warm seat. He tried not to think about it too much and focus on the task at hand. “Surely it’d be easier if I got out and oh, nope.” Jaskier quickly shut himself up as Geralt very easily started to push the car and Jaskier guided the wheels to direct them in to the closest lay-by. He knew Geralt was strong but that was… flustering levels of strong. If those arms could push a car then they could

_Wait, did Geralt carry me last-_

“I’m going to see if I can call someone out to come out. I don’t know anyone on this side of the country so it may take a minute.”

Jaskier yelped as Geralt appeared beside him at the passenger window. “Right uh, yeah, sure thing, buckeroo,” he just about managed even though Geralt was already walking away.

And even though Geralt was tapping away at his phone searching for someone to call, he did look back over his shoulder briefly with a confused look. _Buckeroo?_

It took about twenty minutes but eventually ‘Buckeroo’ got back in to the car. Jaskier, still lost in his thoughts trying to piece together the night before, had remained in the drivers seat and rather than making him move, Geralt sat down in the front passenger seat. Something he had never done before. It felt weird.

“Found someone who can come out-“

“Great!”

“-But they’re on another call at the moment so they’ll be another hour before they get here.”

“Ah…” Jaskier nodded slowly. “Well at least we can sit outside and stretch our-“

A loud crash of thunder made both of them flinch. Fat droplets of rain began to splash on the windscreen.

“Um… At least we can-“

“Please don’t say anything,” Geralt halted him for fear of more cursed words.

Jaskier huffed a laugh. “Whose great idea was it to go on a cross country road trip in this sort of weather?”

“Whose great idea was it to invite themselves along?”

“Touché, my friend, touché,” Jaskier chuckled. He picked up the crossword again and finished writing in the word ‘alternator’. “Five letters- The American breed of dog that-“

“I think I’ve had enough of that crossword, Jaskier.”

Jaskier would have been a little more annoyed in his response, but Geralt sounded so drained. He watched as the man arched his neck from side to side relieving small popping noises.

“Does your neck hurt?”

“A little. Back too. Probably a combination of sleeping in a shitty hostel bed,” no offence meant to Tim’s grandmother (full offence to Tim), “Driving for a long time and stress,” he sighed.

Jaskier chewed on his lip, debating with himself. “Y’know… I’ve been told I’m quite good at massages.”

Geralt scoffed. “I’d believe it if I hadn’t told you you were ‘quite good’ at singing,” his last few words were muffled as he buried his face in to his hands, letting his fingers drag at the skin, rough palms scratching against his stubble.

“Oh you are a right-“ he cut himself off with a huff of a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m going to ignore that, because I know you don’t mean it. You’re just cranky and tired. Which…” he slowed the word to ease in to it, “I could help with.”

Geralt stayed with his face in his hands for a few moments before slowly tilting his head to the side to partially reveal one eye so that he could give Jaskier a look.

“Please, playing all these instruments for so many years has given me delightfully nimble fingers,” he wiggled them for emphasis.

 _I don’t doubt that_.

Geralt swallowed.

_What if he remembers what happened last night._

He kept his gaze locked with Jaskier’s.

_What if he tries it again._

Jaskier just smiled back expectantly.

_Then I’ll make him wait outside in the rain until he calms down._

But they both knew Geralt would never make Jaskier do that.

“Do not try for a happy ending,” Geralt warned bluntly.

“Darling, the only happy ending I desire is to melt all of your tension away in to a smile,” he practically purred the reassurance.

Geralt cocked a brow, pausing momentarily before finally lifting his head with a deep, deep sigh as if it took everything left in him to do so. He gave Jaskier a look to say that he was waiting to be directed.

“Ah right yes uh… hmm. That’s a point. Usually I’d get you to lie down and then I’d uh… well. Hmm…”

Geralt quirked a brow again.

“Okay so you’ve got two options here: Either you push the chair back as far as it will go and then lay it back and you can lay on it face down sort of awkwardly and then I’d uh-“

“Or?”

“Or- yes, or you can just sort of…” he made a circular motion in the air with one of his fingers and made a swooping whistle sound, “Just turn your back to me now.”

There was a grunt in agreement to the second option, and Geralt shifted in his seat so that he was facing the passenger door.

Was that sand Jaskier could taste? Because his mouth felt drier than the Sahara. His hands hovered mid air as he took in the sheer expanse that was the distance between the man’s shoulders in a shirt tight enough that you could make out the lines of his muscles.

Surprisingly, the lack of hands on him this time was a little worrying to Geralt peered back over his shoulder. “Do you need me to-“

“Put your hair up, yep. Please. Helpful. That would be helpful,” he tried to put his tongue back in his mouth a little unsuccessfully.

About a year in to dating Yennefer, Geralt started to notice hairbands popping up everywhere. In his apartment, his bed, his laundry, his car, literally everywhere. The latter of the hiding places taking particular residence around Roach’s gearstick. Yen would keep some there in case she wanted a hairstyle change on the way to or from wherever Geralt was driving them and after the divorce they just sort of stayed there. It was not that Geralt kept them for any particular reasons of sentimentality, or any reason at all really, he had just never bothered to take them off of the gear stick.

 _Handy_.

He tugged one off and placed it between his teeth so that he could gather his hair in to a bun with a million fly away strands and if Jaskier’s tongue was hanging out before, his eyes were now joining it.

“You shouldn’t use the ones with metal on. They’re bad for your hair. I’ll-“ _You can’t get him any, this is the last time you’ll ever see him,_ “I’ll recommend you some.”

Geralt grunted in lieu of thanks, even though what he had wanted to say was that there was no need as he did not actually put his hair up that much anymore.

With Geralt’s hair now out of the way, Jaskier was able to see something peeking out of the top of the man’s t-shirt. It was not that he had not noticed it before; a slight flash of light catching metal under his collar, an outline on his chest when he wore particularly tight shirts, Jaskier had seen a hint of it every single day he had been with Geralt.

Jaskier’s fingertips hovered over the chain, inadvertently tickling the hairs at the back of Geralt’s neck and sending a shiver up the man’s spine. At that, Jaskier wetted his lips. “You know, I’ve never asked but I’ve always wondered-“

“Unusual,” Geralt quipped, still unsure of why Jaskier had not started the massage yet.

“What do you wear around your neck?”

“Do you need that off too?” But as Jaskier was trying to say that it was fine where it was, Geralt was already tugging it out of his shirt and over his head and placed it on his lap to wait for Jaskier to finally start.

“May I…?” Jaskier eventually asked and Geralt handed the necklace over his shoulder without looking back. It was passed in to hands that held it as if it was the most precious thing in the world. A long silver chain with an intricately carved pendant in the shape of a wolf’s head. “Why a wolf?” he asked.

“Family thing. Pack.”

From the bluntness of the reply, Jaskier could tell Geralt did not want to delve any further in to an explanation, so he did not push for one. “Huh…” Jaskier smoothed his thumb over the warmed metal. “This why people call you ‘White Wolf’?” Jaskier asked, not knowing if they allowed participants to wear jewellery during a match, or maybe he just wore it in a lot of interviews?

Geralt grunted and Jaskier took that as a yes.

“Well,” he reached over Geralt’s shoulder and carefully lowered it on to the man’s lap with a warm smile even though he did not think the man was looking at him, “I think it’s gorgeous.” _Suits you_.

Jaskier was close. Too close. Almost as close as he had been last night. Lips just missing the skin of Geralt’s neck and slightly parted letting out he scent of coffee and strawberries. It was intoxicating, more so than anything Geralt had consumed the day before. All he would have to do is just turn his head to the side and then

Geralt cleared his throat and shifted a little further forward in his seat which immediately made Jaskier kick in to gear and place his hands on Geralt’s shoulders, taking it as a hint that the man was still feeling uncomfortable. Though he was thinking of it more in the physical sense, painfully oblivious to the quickening pulse that had been mere inches from his lips moments ago and to how much harder Geralt would have found it to say no this time. Not that he remembered the last time himself.

“Now,” Jaskier started to smooth his hands all over the fabric of Geralt’s shirt, easing him in to it, “Don’t hold back on any requests. If there’s any areas that you feel need particular attention, let me know.”

Even though his breath hitched ever so slightly when Jaskier’s hands slipped to his sides, Geralt let his head roll forward with a quiet huff of a laugh. “Every inch of my-“ he didn’t get to finish that because apparently Jaskier had found a very effective spot to shut him up, which he would later title ‘Geralt’s Off Switch”. He gave a small grunt of approval instead and let his eyes fall shut.

Jaskier chuckled unashamedly; it was nice to see that his hands still held their talent, even if it had been a little while since he had used them for a task like this. “Oh? Every inch of your what, exactly?”

Geralt huffed. “Being. Every inch except those in-“ This time Jaskier pressed a little harder and Geralt arched his back in the most delicious way, which was remarkable considering Jaskier could tell how hard Geralt was trying to control his reactions because he could feel the tension in the man’s body.

So rather than quip, Jaskier worked silently, trying to ease every fibre his fingers ran across. His thumbs followed down the curvature of Geralt’s shoulder blades before he pressed the sides of his hands a little deeper to follow them back up. He rubbed small, methodical circles all the way up Geralt’s spine, to the top of his neck. He took care to relieve every knot he came across- of which there were many- numbing the feeling with a caring press of his palms. He had to admit, he was surprised when he did not hear a single word or noise of complaint when he began to knead his knuckles in to the small of Geralt’s back and as much of his arse as he could get with them sitting like this, but Geralt was practically putty in Jaskier’s hands by then.

Jaskier watched with a small smile, as Geralt’s head hung limp and swayed with some of Jaskier’s more pressurised moves. “See, when I’m usually massaging my partners, they’d at least be shirtless,” and of course, the fact that his hands had travelled down to the hem of Geralt’s shirt and may have raised it perhaps an inch to reveal the marble surface underneath was definitely not supposed to be suggestive of anything, “And I would have some oil to help lessen the…” he cleared his throat, “Friction.”

“And let me guess: You’d be shirtless too and the oil would double as lube.”

Jaskier was taken aback a little by Geralt’s bluntness otherwise he would have hit back with the fact that he was more inclined to use water based lubricants for safety.

“Good thing we’re not partners.”

 _Ouch_. Jaskier tried not to let his actions show that the words had affected him at all, but he did press down a little harder in to Geralt’s side, making him hiss.

“Maybe if Yennefer decides I’m no good after all I could go in to massage therapy. Open up my own place. ‘Jaskier’s’… No I think I need to be a bit more creative than that don’t I? But I'll tell you what would be creative- playing my music during the sessions and then having them be like ‘Oh, wow that was relaxing, who was singing’, oh yes, darling, that was me, here, buy my album located at the till.”

The man had turned to rambling to cope with the sudden ache he felt deep in his gut, but Geralt was barely listening, too mellowed by the movements and distracted by the sudden thought that clicked in his mind.

“Answer a question?”

“I think I more than owe you an answer after you’ve brought me all that wonderful spread this morning, darling. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He pondered how to phrase it exactly. “Were you disappointed to find out Allison had a husband?”

A bit of saliva got stuck in the back of Jaskier’s throat as he laughed and he coughed it free. “Heavens no. I thought they made the most delightful couple, don’t you? It’s like they were made for each other. They say opposites attract- like Katrina and Petra- but I think they were two halves of the same soul.”

Geralt rolled his eyes at Jaskier’s romanticism.

“Why’d you ask?” Jaskier questioned him as he looked to the bed, trying to decide what to eat next.

“No reason.” Well now he had to test his theory, “Julian.”

Geralt could see Jaskier’s eyes go wide at the name as he stared at his refection in the window, but the man did not stop massaging his shoulders, trying not to give anything away. Geralt could also see him try to compose himself before he responded.

“He was very sweet too, wasn’t he?”

“I wonder if it comes with the name.”

Jaskier froze. _Did I…? I wouldn’t have…_ “Geralt…” He let his hands be still, leaving them resting upon Geralt’s shoulders and Geralt could see that his eyes were a mixture of serious and sad.

Geralt shifted to turn around to check.

“Did I… tell you yesterday?”

 _Oh no. Abort mission_. “Tell me what?” _Stupid mouth_.

“My name.”

Geralt blinked. “Oh. I… Hmm. I thought- they way you looked when she introduced him. I thought it was the name of the guy who dumped you. The one with the Netflix thing.”

Jaskier laughed but it sounded bitter. “He wishes he could pull off a name like that. No, his name is far worse. Tastes like dirt. Dirty dirt. Bleh.”

As Jaskier shook his head in disgust, Geralt quirked a brow, not used to him speaking so illy of someone. Jaskier noticed it and looked a little sheepish, understanding he should probably get back to his point from before and stop avoiding it.

“Jaskier is… not my real name. I chose it after I… uh…” He shuffled a little in his seat and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Here… it might be better if I showed you.”

And now Geralt was fully concerned. Not for his sake and that Jaskier was some sort of criminal that had to change his name to be released back in to the public, but that something was clearly wrong now. That was definitely hurt that he could see in Jaskier’s eyes as he finished tapping away at the screen and just stared at it for a few moments with the saddest expression Geralt had ever seen from him.

There was a slight hesitation when he started to hand over the phone. “Just don’t… I don’t know. Just don’t… You’ll know.”

Geralt did not have to touch Jaskier’s hand at all as he accepted the phone, but he did and he let his hand linger there for a moment, hoping that whatever reassuring words that were sure to fail him, could be felt instead. It gained him a meek smile before Jaskier diverted his gaze, not wanting to see Geralt’s initial reaction.

The first image: A rather stately looking man standing next to Jaskier who must have been no older than eighteen in the photograph. They were both staring unsmiling in to the camera dressed in dark suits. Jaskier looked… trapped. His eyes screamed that he would rather die than be there. The beginning of the caption read ‘The Earl and the viscount, Julian’.

The second image: A newspaper page detailing the engagement of a Viscount and Lady along with a photograph of the two. They looked very much not in love; Jaskier was sporting the same expression as he had with the first image and the Lady was looking not much different. She was beautiful though, Geralt had to admit.

The third image: Another newspaper. This time, with headlines of tragedy; the shock death of the happily engaged couple.

Geralt scrolled back to the first image and frowned. He vaguely recognised the Earl and was about to zoom in to get a better look when the name in the caption clicked. There was a hot spark of controversy some years ago. Something to do with funding for something and the payment of staff?

Jaskier winced as he turned back and noticed the frown on Geralt’s face, fully bracing himself for some form of hurled abuse whether verbal or having his phone thrown back at him.

“You’re engaged?”

Jaskier opened one eye and then the other to look at him incredulously. “You’re… you’re kidding me, right? You look at that and the first thing you ask me is if I’m engaged?”

Geralt blinked, not knowing if Jaskier wanted him to repeat himself or not.

He did not, for reference, and rolled his eyes. “No, Geralt. I am not engaged. I was, but faking your death to the papers works wonders in cashing in get out of jail free cards.”

“Did you not… like each other?” he followed up, not really knowing where to take the conversation next because frankly, there was an awful lot to ask and Geralt had not a clue where to start.

“Oh no, we loved each other. To death, so it seems,” he chuckled and no matter how lighthearted it seemed, Geralt could hear the lacing of bitterness. “Anna and I grew up together. We were inseparable. She was the only thing that kept me a… that kept me sane. But our parents saw it for more than what it was. They turned a friendship in to a business investment and forced our hands in to an engagement to give good press because I uh… had a habit of attracting troubling news. I was very in to… mingling with the staff.”

Geralt huffed because he could believe that much.

“And staff meant literally anyone, whatever the gender and my father did not take too kindly to that and paid many a person off to keep it out of the headlines until of course, he decided to try and put an end to it for good. I may have had my fun sleeping around, and I still do, but I have my morals. I would never have cheated on her, even if the relationship was fake. She’s gay, y’know? Has a lovely wife and a gorgeous family now. Wonderfully cute wedding a few years back. I was the best man and headlined the band. Great night.” He sighed wistfully before rubbing the back of his neck as he realised he should probably get back on track.

Not that Geralt was looking impatient or even reacting in any particular way other than showing that he was fully listening. He could tell Jaskier had waited years to air this and now was his chance. Who was he to take that away from him with a mistimed frown.

“I hated that life, Geralt. Absolutely hated it. And I know it’s a selfish thing to say when poverty and famine exist and there I was on the lap of luxury but…”

Geralt nodded. No judgement there.

“He did not deserve the power and money that he had and I never wanted to be a part of that world. I told them that. I even told them I wanted to pursue music. And they threw me down and ignored me until I finally found the voice to stick up for myself. I threatened to go to the papers. Tell them every little sordid detail of my life and what they had done to cover it up, the lengths they had gone to. They’d have been ruined. So then they proposed something else- I’d be killed off. It gave them an image boosted with sympathy and simultaneously got rid of the loose thread of the family. It… worked well. I changed my name and laid low for a couple of years living with my Grandmother-“

“The Polish one?”

“No, no. I was blessed with two lovely grandmothers. Was barely ever allowed to see either of them though. I stayed with my English one until the day she passed and my father found out and kicked me out so that he could sell the place. Luckily by then I’d saved up enough from various little jobs here and there to cut my ties completely and I have not seen any of them since. Neither I nor they have even tried to make contact and hopefully I can keep it that way. My father died the other year and no-body tried to find me, not even the press, so… success?”

When he looked to Geralt, the man’s expression was unreadable. Which should have been more unsettling than it was, but in Jaskier’s mind he had just admitted a secret that he had kept with him for years, the relief of which was outweighing any worry he was feeling.

“So…” he swallowed and held out his hand, “Julian Alfred Pankratz. Pleasure to meet you.”

Geralt looked at the hand for a moment before locking eyes with Jaskier and accepting it with a shake. “Nice to meet you, _Jaskier_.”

In his eyes, Jaskier could have quiet easily stayed and obeyed his family to live a life of comfort, the only life he had ever know but he uprooted himself to follow his heart and leave behind a toxic past. And he could admire that.

A hitch of breath turned in to a relieved laugh that almost looked like it brought tears to Jaskier’s eyes. Therefore, Geralt decided, finally letting go of Jaskier’s hand and turning around to prompt the continuation of the massage as if they had not even stopped, that he should try and improve the laugh to get things back to normal. To get Jaskier happy again.

“Is that why you said you were a celebrity?”

Jaskier, whose heart swelled at Geralt’s efforts towards normality, placed his hands on the man’s back once again. Thanks to that, he remembered his little flirty moment during the game. “You little shit, are you forgetting I literally met you on the closing night of my _tour_. I may not be famous famous, but I have a following. So… celebrity.” He gave a warning squeeze. “Let me have this.”

Geralt held up his hands in surrender and gave a small chuckle before quietly saying, “You will be one.”

There was a slight pause before Jaskier carried on with the massage, but when he did, his touches were that little bit more gentle. In truth, his pressure eased because his thoughts had turned more reflective and he debated with himself whether or not he could handle the answer to the question he wanted to ask.

“Speaking of last night…”

_Fuck._

“What did you think of darling Tim?”

 _Thank fuck_. Geralt chose not to answer.

So Jaskier continued. “I never considered the fact that there was even such a thing as an investment banker. It’s one of those jobs you only really hear about in films.”

“More like investment wanker.”

When that slipped out, Jaskier paused, hands staying in place. “You uh… didn’t like him?” He tried to take the hope out of his tone.

Geralt let out a small sigh and opened his mouth to explain but Jaskier beat him to it.

“I think he was really in to you, y’know? You’d make a good… power couple.”

And, oh, that was it for Geralt. _He doesn’t need to know_. “He was trying to sleep with you.”

Jaskier clearly did not realise that Geralt could see his reflection in the window, because the look of confusion on his face was a picture. But then he felt Jaskier’s hands tighten on his shoulders.

“Is that why he… he kept buying me drinks… Fuck. The creepy bastard. Did he tell you that?”

A grunt. Now Geralt wondered if perhaps he should have just said the truth and why he had even tried to spare him from it in the first place.

“Christ, Katrina was right about him. Well, that’s it,” he picked up his phone and furiously tapped away at it. “There. I’ve unfollowed him on Instagram.” As if the only reason he had followed him in the first place was not just to stalk him in case he got together with Geralt.

Geralt smiled ever so slightly. “I’m sure wherever he is right now, he just felt a little stabbing pain to his heart.”

“Hey,” he gave another warning squeeze on Geralt’s shoulders after he had put his phone back down, “It’s not every day you get followed by a verified account. He should have been grateful- oh God that sounds pretentious,” he groaned as if the realisation pained him and rolled his head forward, his forehead hitting the top of Geralt’s back with a light thump.

And he stayed there. And he stayed there and it was just the rain and their breaths falling in to sync. And he stayed there and the rest of the world fell away again and it was just them. Jaskier inhaled Geralt’s scent, a concentrated version of what had lingered on his shirt yesterday. Geralt felt the heat of Jaskier’s breath seep through his t-shirt, a wash of goosebumps prickling over his arms. Neither of them knew how long they stayed like that. Time ceased to exist.

And then Geralt, the bloody awkward idiot that he was, felt his breath hitch in his throat and he felt the itch to cough which startled Jaskier back to work. Both men silently cursed themselves.

He worked without a word for another minute or so before coming across a particularly tough knot in the middle of Geralt’s back. “You know, I don’t know what’s caused you to carry this much tension with you Geralt, but I’m sure you shouldn’t have reason to.”

Geralt scoffed in an obvious disagreement.

And Jaskier was having none of that. Perhaps he should do some massaging of the man’s ego too. He hummed for a few moments, still rolling pressure all over, lulling Geralt in to a false sense of security while he planned his attack.

“It’s true, Geralt, I’ve only known you for a week and I can already tell you put far too much pressure on yourself. Just relax a little. You’re a good person. You decided to help me and you didn’t even know me! You stepped in to protect me from that guy when you could have just let him beat me up-“

“Anyone would have stepped in, Jaskier,” he grumbled.

Jaskier increased his pressure to help make his point. “No, Geralt, people don’t do that. Other people don’t want to get involved and like to stay out of trouble. He could have stabbed you and yet you stil-“

“Wasn’t like it was much effort to get him to stop.”

“Yes. But you did. You and your strength and gallantry… a true hero.”

“I’m no hero.”

“Geralt, my dear, I predict in about… five years time? Some big time director is going to snap you up to play the handsome lead in their next big hit because look at you. You’re like the dictionary definition of leading man-“

“Jaskier.”

The warning did nothing to stop Jaskier’s efforts, he just ignored it. “You’re ruggedly handsome, brave, heroic, probably the most unselfish soul I have ever met.”

Another scoff followed by another “Jaskier”, to try and get him to shut up. His skin was beginning to tinge pink.

”Your eyes have this sort of… glint to them when you smile slightly, as if you’re letting them do the smiling instead,” that felt a little too specific, “You’re whip smart and Christ, funny as hell when you let yourself be- I’m pretty sure they would have you ad-lib a bunch if they found that out. Bet you could do your own stunts too. Any leading lady would be happy to have you on their arm- although, tiny request from me- see if you can get the studio to let you have a fellow leading man instead. Far too many straight couples in the media, give the kids some more representation. And hey, I’ve done a bit of acting, you could get me a role. Ah, sorry, this isn’t about me. This is about the wonder that is you. And you certainly are a wonder, Geralt. A wonderful wonder. And it’s about damn time you saw it too.” With his final words, his hands had made their way up to the top of Geralt’s neck, a spot he realised he had neglected until then and he would soon regret that fact.

“Jaskier…” the rasped moan escaped Geralt moments before both men hitched their breath as they both felt something twitch; Geralt’s the realisation in his head that the sound had come from him and somewhere else, and Jaskier, somewhere else and the defogging of his brain as it connected the strand of why it sounded so familiar.

_Oh… Fuck._

At the exact same time both men opened their mouths, they flinched at a loud rapping noise at the window in front of Geralt.

He opened the door to reveal a smiley, bearded man, probably a couple of inches shorter than Jaskier in height, but built more like Geralt, holding a bright blue umbrella above his head.

 _Fucking blue_ , Geralt thought.

“Colleague said you needed hand?”

Geralt did not dare to glance back over his shoulder before getting out of the car and quickly shutting the door behind him. Jaskier, of course, did not take kindly to this and quickly got out too. By the time he had, both Geralt and the mechanic were huddled under the umbrella and talking. In _Polish_.

“Skończyłem moją ostatnią pracę, zanim to zrobił, więc zaproponowałem, że zamiast tego wyjdę. Mam nadzieję, że wszystko w porządku?”

“Tak. W porządku. Jestem prawie pewien, że to alternator, ale-“ Geralt frowned when he noticed the mechanic was not looking at him, but instead smiling politely over as Jaskier who was standing on the other side of the car stubbornly trying to figure out what they two were saying, arms clutched to his chest and getting soaked. “Jaskier, get in the car.”

“I didn’t know if-“

“Get in. _Teraz_.” The last thing he needed was for Jaskier to catch a chill because he was standing there being stupid.

Oh. There was a word Jaskier recognised. Eyes a little wider in surprise, Jaskier did as he was told without the need of a further, more forceful order and got back in to the driver’s seat. Though he could not help but wonder if Geralt’s tone would get more so the longer he disobeyed or whether he would have been forced to move Jaskier himself. Nothing like a spot of tension filled manhandling in the rain to get Jaskier’s romantic heart beating.

He watched the two men stand out in the rain, obviously discussing the car but what with the rain hitting the window and the fact that they were talking n Polish, a language Jaskier had not had to speak since he was very little, he could not really make out much of it.

When the mechanic started looking over the engine, Geralt held the umbrella move over him as it was only fair since he was the one who would hopefully be helping them on their way. He had jumped from the car so quick that he had neglected to take a jacket with him so he was not much further from being soaked to the bone. If he had not tied his hair up earlier, he might have looked like a drowned rat, although Jaskier imagined he could probably pull that off too.

Actually, Jaskier could have sworn that he saw something in the back of the car when he put his guitar back. And sure enough, when he reached back over there, he found an umbrella on the floor.

 _Bingo_.

Geralt frowned and looked back over his shoulder when he heard the car door open. “Jaskier, what did I-“ The umbrella was thrust in to his hand, giving him no other option than to awkwardly, with one hand, open it and hold it above their heads and give Jaskier a half sheepish, half thankful smile.

That was all Jaskier needed. He grinned, a little shiver running through him. Deciding the cover of being in the car and it’s semi-warmth far outweighed his need to get Geralt to grovel, he darted back in to the car to begin to plot how Geralt could make up for it.

“Twój chłopak jest dobry. Looking out for you.”

Geralt just grunted.

Just under fifteen minutes later, the rain eased off and Jaskier decided that the umbrella move had worked enough to cheer Geralt up that he would be allowed to stand outside with them so long as he was not too much of a bother. Not that he could promise that.

“Hey,” Geralt’s voice was a lot calmer and even just the way he said the greeting Jaskier could tell it was his way of trying to suss out if he needed to apologise.

“Hey yourself, mister.” _It’s alright_. Jaskier nudged Geralt with his elbow as he ducked under the umbrella that Geralt was still holding over himself despite the lack of need. He noticed the mechanic putting his own umbrella back in to his truck before he looked up to Geralt. “So… diagnosis and treatment?”

A small huff. “Alternator, like I predicted. Didn’t predict a punctured tyre too but you can add that to the list.”

“Poor Roach.”

“Mm. Belt was fine but the actual alternator is shot. Needs replacing and I’ll be lucky if-“

“Jak przewidziano,” the mechanic noticed Jaskier as Geralt turned to the side and smiled politely at him before continuing to address Geralt. In English this time. “I called around and the earliest you’re gonna be able to set off is tomorrow morning. I know a guy who stocks parts for your car, but he’s shut on Sundays. I’ll be able to get it back to the garage for you and here’s the number for a good taxi service,” he handed Geralt a business card, “If you don’t fancy walking for an hour to get to us tomorrow. We’ve got nothing else booked in so your repair will be the first one I’ll do. There’s a hotel about a fifteen minute walk down this road. You’ll be lucky to get a room though- some big sort of networking event thing going on in a few venues around, but I’ll wish you luck regardless. You’ve got our details and we’ve got yours, so I’ll give you a call tomorrow morning, okay?”

They exchanged handshakes and he let them take their belongings from Roach before he started to connect the car to his truck. “You play guitar?” He asked when he saw Geralt pull out the case.

“No, that beaut is mine, he just carries it. I’d offer to play you out to say thanks for helping us, but I broke a string just before we broke down.”

“Oh? Need it replacing?”

Geralt’s eyes went wide. _Oh no._

“There’s an instrument shop in town. They’ll restring the whole thing and tune it for about… fifty zloty?”

Jaskier beamed from ear to ear and turned to Geralt. “Looks like I’ll be able to play _us_ out after all, Geralt!”

“Joy,” Geralt sighed as he took Jaskier’s bag from him, for he knew whatever the last song Jaskier played to him was, he would have it stuck in his head for years to come, long after they had parted ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier's shirt for the chapter: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/843721311430514958/
> 
> thank you for reading my darlings  
> as predicted i only finished this chapter off this morning because its been a hectic few weeks  
> between battling my fatigue issues balancing family life A N D (i fully thank your vibes for this) i received a super important promotion at work that i did not go in for but got recommended for! i am absolutely thrilled to start at the end of the month and i know i will be very busy and even more tired but im going to power through so that i can be fuelled by your lovely comments each fortnight   
> three chapters left excuse me while i get v e r y emotional  
> also we have reached one t h o u s a n d views holy poop i did not expect this little selfish project to reach one view let alone a thousand thank you to every single one of you and especially to those of you who come back every fortnight
> 
> songs referenced:  
> Soldier, Poet, King - The Oh Hellos


	10. Are you checking in or are you checking him out? -Y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the fuck did you expect, grabbing at a towel in a sauna? A ken doll?”  
> “I expected you to cover up your bloody modesty in a public place!”  
> “It was covered until someone started grabbing at things that shouldn’t be grabbed!”  
> “You shouldn’t have threatened to mess up my hair!”

As it had started to rain again on their walk to the hotel, Jaskier had taken over carrying his guitar and rucksack so that Geralt could hold the umbrella over the two of them. The other functioning cars that passed them on the road were very considerate and avoided the large puddles that threatened to splash the pair.

They reached the hotel in just over ten minutes having sped up their walking so they could reduce the amount of time they spent out in the rain as much as possible. Geralt had refused to get a taxi for a fifteen minute walk stating that by the time it arrived to pick them up, they would have got their by walking.

Jaskier held open the door to the lobby while Geralt shook as much of the water off of the umbrella as possible on to the steps. They were greeted by a lobby that was probably four times the size of Jaskier’s apartment; all white marble and statues and fresh flowers and gold embellishments. Considering the mechanic had warned them that it was going to be horrifically busy, they were surprised to see perhaps a maximum of two guests seemingly going back to their rooms and and about three members of staff carrying things to and fro. There was a solitary, immaculately dressed man standing behind the front desk who they quickly gravitated to.

“Greetings, welcome to the White Orchard. How can I help you this fine afternoon?”

“Fine?” Jaskier shifted his position slightly, making his shoes squelch and the receptionist scrunched his face slightly in disgust, knowing full well Jaskier would be leaving a puddle on the floor. “Fine for frogs with this weather.”

“Hm, indeed,” he gave Jaskier a tight lipped smile before he turned his attention to Geralt instead, hoping he might have something better to offer than a quip about his choice of smalltalk. “How can I help, gentlemen?”

“Car broke down and won’t be fixed until the morning. Have you got any rooms?”

“I’m very sorry gentlemen, but incase you did not read the signs,” he pointed to a couple of them, “You picked the wrong day to breakdown. We’re fully booked for the next few days.”

“God, Geralt,” Jaskier smacked Geralt’s bicep with the back of his hand,” I told you we should have broken down next week! Now it’s just an inconvenience!”

Another forced smile. “Again, apologies, but please, feel free to wait in the lobby until the rain passes!”

As he waved a hand towards the designated waiting area, the phone rang and he quickly picked it up, hoping the fact that he was making himself look busy might make the pair clear off quicker. But Jaskier was a nosey little shit and leant on the front desk showing no signs of leaving, ready to swoop up the opportunity for a possible cancellation.

“Good afternoon, White Orchard, how may I- Damien? Are you… oh my _God_ are you-“ The receptionist looked at the two of them and quickly turned around so that his back was to the both of them as if that somehow made his conversation more private, but Jaskier was far too invested to be polite. “Are you in a _bathroom_? Food poisoning? What did I tell-“ He ran a hand over his face with a sigh. “No, no, stay there. I can’t have you coming in and vomiting over the piano. I hate to think how much that would cost. You owe me. Yes, yes, get well soon and all that, bailer.”

The receptionist put the phone back on to it’s stand, sighed, smoothed down his shirt and turned back round slowly with his plastered on customer service smile. “As I was saying, please, feel free to-“

“Having a little…” Jaskier ran his fingers over the counter as if it had magically transformed in to piano keys, he could even hear the tune he was playing in his head, “Pianist trouble, are we?”

“Sorry, sir,” the effort in keeping up the smile was tripled, “That was a private call-“

“A private call! During work time! Well I am very sure your boss would like to know about this!”

Geralt sighed, feeling a little bad for the obviously distressed man before them. “Jaskier, knock it off-“

“A private _work_ call.”

“I was only teasing. I just could not help but hear that you sounded as if you’re in a spot of trouble vis-a-vis losing a performer?”

The receptionist narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to decipher Jaskier’s intentions and looked to Geralt for some hint of guidance only to find a look that said the sooner he went along with it, the sooner the situation would be over. The receptionist sighed. “My friend Damien is a musician and was looking for a job while he was staying in the area. I pulled some strings with my boss and she was going to let him be the musical entertainment for the ‘after-party’ of the conference today. It’s just sort of a cool down event where the attendees can drink and discuss business and make more connections and Damien was supposed to help bring a bit more ambiance to it by playing the piano for a couple of hours. But he’s got food poisoning- Not from here! I would like to make that very clear. I only managed to reserve him a free room for tonight. Last night he had to stay in a… not so great hotel about an half an hour away and I told him not to eat there, but he never listens when it comes to food and-“

“You were giving him a free room?” Geralt picked out the important part.

“Well, wouldn’t you just hate to see a good room go to waste, Geralt? It just so happens, my dear, that our breaking down today might not be so much of an inconvenience after all. I happen to be a musician. A very good one at that. Let me fill in for Damien tonight and comp us the room and we’ll be even. Sounds perfect, no?”

“I do not think so, I’m afraid,” The receptionist crossed his arms. “I had a hard enough time trying to convince my boss to let Damien play, and I _know_ him.”

“Do you not know who this is?”

Jaskier slowly turned his head to to Geralt as the man piped up, not quite grasping where Geralt was going with this.

“This is _Jaskier_. You’re telling me you want to be the one to tell your boss that you turned away _Jaskier_ from playing at your hotel? I hope you know you’re turning away a real talent here. Probably better than Damien in fact.”

“It’s okay, Geralt, it’s fine. My music has just not reached this far across the pond yet,” he placed a calming hand on Geralt’s arm, playing along. “Though perhaps this may have been the start of something…” he looked in to the distance whimsically.

The receptionist held up a hand to quiet them. “Cut the drama, okay?” He thought for a moment in the silence he had commanded. “I suppose she never did meet Damien… I just need to know if you can play.”

Geralt brushed Jaskier’s hand off of his arm now that their act was over, though he held back a smirk.

“Can I play? Hah!” he barked a laugh as he dug his phone out of his pocket and slammed it on to the counter. He really needed to start taking better care of his phone. It was not as if it was a Nokia. “What kind of song do you want to hear?”

Of course Jaskier had an entire folder on his phone with videos of prepared songs. All genres of music. Even some surprising ones that he claimed had been ‘phases’. But the receptionist was only interested in classical music. No singing.

“No singing, just playing okay? We’re going for classy. I mean,” he gestured around the lobby, “Look at this place.”

Jaskier held up three fingers. “Scouts honour, dear. Now, about those rooms.”

“Room. Singular. I wasn’t lying when I said we were fully booked. I only comped Damien the one room because funnily enough, he wasn’t a freeloading package deal.”

Geralt looked mildly offended. “I pay for _him_.”

“No need to get in to details, darling,” Jaskier patted Geralt’s arm as the man grumbled something under his breath that both the receptionist and Jaskier decided to ignore. “So, may we please have the key to our room?”

The receptionist rolled his eyes and typed away at the computer for a few moments before reaching under the desk to pull out a room. “Room 13.”

“Ooh, fun, unlucky for some…” Jaskier grabbed the key from him before Geralt had a chance to and noticed some writing on it, making his eyes go wide. “But not unlucky for us: ‘Use this key to get in to our facilities: Gym, pool, sauna’, how divine!”

“We’re going to need two keys,” Geralt requested.

Again, the receptionist rolled his eyes, typed, and pulled out another key, this time handing it directly to Geralt. “Just please… behave. My job could be on the line if something goes wrong.”

“We will be the epitome of the perfect guests, right Geralt?”

Gerald grunted, already picking up his bag, ready to turn and find his way to their new room for the night. Jaskier shot the receptionist a playful wink and turned to follow Geralt. 

“Wait!” he called them back to the desk, “Do you own anything more…” he waved his hand in the air trying to think of the word, then waved it in Jaskier’s general direction, “Toned down?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question,” Geralt muttered and again, Jaskier batted him on the arm, gently.

“Not anything that is clean or ironed, I’m afraid, no.”

The receptionist eyed him up and down for a moment or to and quickly typed something else in to his computer. “I’ll get a uniform sent up to your room along with a brief of the event and what is needed of you.”

“Perfect…” Jaskier stood there seemingly waiting for something. “Aren’t you supposed to say ‘Enjoy your evening’ or something?”

“Don’t mess this up.”

“That’ll do, I guess. Though I would have expected something more polite and friendly from a place like this.”

Geralt could not help but notice Jaskier looking extra smug as they made their way down the corridors to their room and he had a slight skip to his step. “How very selfless of you,” Geralt smirked as he fished the key out of his pocket when they finally reached room thirteen.

“Alright, Mister Perfect,” he jabbed a finger in Geralt’s direction, “As if you weren’t doing the exact same thing the day we met.”

Geralt quirked an eyebrow, no need to say anything, letting the key hovering above the lock do the talking for him.

“Well… near enough, anyway,” Jaskier huffed.

Geralt chuckled quietly and resumed opening the door to a room that was probably one of the fanciest ones he had ever had to stay in. And Yennefer had made them stay in some fancy hotel rooms.

“Holy shit…” Jaskier slowly placed his bag and his guitar on the floor and stepped further in to the room. He turned round in a circle to take it all in before falling backwards on to the bed, limbs spread out as far as they could reach and still not touching the sides of the mattress. “I think this bed is bigger than my entire bedroom.”

“Who said that you could touch the bed? You’re sleeping on the floor.” Geralt picked up Jaskier’s bags so he could put them down somewhere where they would be less of a trip hazard.

Jaskier ignored Geralt’s teasing as if he had said nothing at all. “Do you think if I play extra well, they’ll let me keep the bed?”

“I’d be more impressed if you could afford for it to be shipped back to your flat.”

“Cheeky bugger,” Jaskier muttered under his breath and started to wipe his arms and legs up and down on the sheets as if he was making a snow angel. “To be fair, like I said, it’s basically the same size as my bedroom so it wouldn’t exactly fit… Christ, I could fall asleep right now, this bed feels so gorgeous. Geralt,” he propped himself up on his elbows and titled his head slightly to look over to the man, “Come feel it.”

Geralt instantly regretted responding to his name. He fully well knew that Jaskier had meant it entirely innocently but the second he looked over at him sprawled over the bed, Geralt’s mind interpreted it in a very different way.

In a terrible moment of poor self control Geralt continued to stare at him wordlessly until Jaskier titled his head a little more to the side, wondering why Geralt’s face looked as if the man was in the process of crashing and rebooting.

“Gym,” Geralt said bluntly, quickly turning away in favour of delving through his bag to pull out some suitable clothes to take with him.

“Oh… right,” Jaskier did not really know what to say, having assumed that they would spend the afternoon together until Jaskier was needed to perform. The way Geralt had said it and the way he clearly was not waiting for him to get up and join made him safely assume his visit to the gym was intended to be a solitary one. “I guess I’ll uh… go swimming?” Yes, swimming would work as a good distraction.

“Hm,” Geralt nodded without looking back at Jaskier again, “Later,” he said goodbye and promptly left the room, leaving behind a pretty dumbfounded Jaskier, confused as to why Geralt had reverted to talking as bluntly as he had back when they first met.

Jaskier let his head fall back on to the bed with enough force that it bounced slightly. He stared up at the ceiling for about a quarter of an hour, not really thinking about anything at all, but just feeling a bit… lost without Geralt again. It was already not a good feeling, but it felt even worse knowing that soon, rather than just being in different parts of the building, they would be in different parts of the country.

_Right. That’s quite enough of that_.

Jaskier slapped his thighs and then his cheeks before sitting up properly. A little too quickly, mind, as his head went a little funny, but he just waited it out before grabbing a towel from the equally impressive bathroom and headed out.

As the hotel was filled mainly with people here for a business conference, which he assumed was currently happening in one of the hotel’s events rooms, Jaskier was not surprised to see that the pool was empty. Which was helpful because when he packed for the trip, he obviously did not expect swimming to be on the agenda and neglected to bring a pair of swimming shorts. Underwear would have to suffice because he was not going commando in a pool like this.

He left his clothes in a locker in the changing room and wrapped the key around his wrist as he walked out to the pool. One whole side of the room was a floor to high ceiling tinted window to let in limited light but still allowed you to see the beautiful greenery outside. It was lit in a soft violet haze from lights inside the pool and was that… spa music?

Jaskier dove in to the deep end of the pool with ease, fully expecting for the temperature to take his breath away like most public pools, but this one was pleasantly warm. He let himself glide through the water for a few moments longer before breaking the surface to inhale a deep breath. When he was younger he would spend so much time in the swimming pools of his house and his grandmother’s that she used to affectionately call him her little mermaid. Jaskier was rather fond of the endearment and asked to dress up as one for one Halloween, but, unsurprisingly, it did not meet his father’s approval. He made sure to dress up as one the first Halloween he experienced as a free man. Hi grandmother helped to sow sequins on to the tail.

For a couple of minutes he laid on his back and floated in the middle of the pool until he realised that he was falling in to the same mindset he had back in the room and quickly submerged himself again to break out of it.

_Get over yourself, Jaskier_.

He swam around the pool for just under an hour, trying to form some semblance of a thought that was not about Geralt and the fact that in less than twenty four hours, their whirlwind adventure would be over and he would never see the man again.

A week. A week together and yet he felt like this? Like he could not imagine a world without Geralt in it. Like he could not imagine waking up and his first thought being anything other than ‘I wonder what the world has in store for Geralt and I today’.

The man had a habit of catching feelings far too easily and despite the toxicity of the home he was raised in, he had the capacity to fall in love with every single person he met. But Geralt was different. Geralt made everyone else in the world disappear.

And now Jaskier wanted to disappear.

Deep breath.

He sat at the bottom of the pool, pushing himself to stay under the water and watched the light refract around him.

And closed his eyes.

_Maybe if I stay under here for long enough I’ll pass out and wake up in some alternative universe and_

_Wait my lungs are starting to hurt._

When he opened his eyes again, he noticed a familiar hand reaching under the water by the side of the pool and took that as his cue to reemerge with a gasp.

“So that’s what you look like without perfect hair.” Geralt smirked. He had undressed after his gym session, wrapped himself in a complimentary white fluffy robe and gone to find Jaskier. It was not too difficult to guess who the only person in the pool would be, so he had knelt down confidently on the edge of the pool and waited for Jaskier to take note of his arrival.

Jaskier swept a hand up over his face to push his sodden hair from his eyes. “You think my hair is perfect?” There was a little bit of hope in them but he was mostly teasing. Mostly.

“You look like a mop.”

“Says you!” Jaskier quickly switched to a defensive tone. “Your hair is literally the exact same length and colour as a mop! All it needs is-“ He quickly cupped his hands and splashed Geralt rather predictably.

Predictable enough that Geralt managed to shield his face with the sleeve of his robe and tried to feign a look of annoyance when he lowered it. “Now if you look at the situation here, who is in a more likely position to get drowned?”

Jaskier sunk a little deeper in the the water, momentarily hiding his smug smirk. “If you drown me, Geralt, the hotel will be left without a performer, and you, without a room. And with no room for the night you’ll have to sleep in Roach but, oh wait…”

Geralt splashed the smirk right off of the man’s face. “I’m going to go in the sauna for a while.” He said it not as an invitation for the man to join him, but just informing him of his whereabouts.

Jaskier stepped closer to the side of the pool so that he could rest his arms on the edge and watched Geralt stand up with a cocked brow. “So you’ve been working out and sweating all this time and now you’re going to go and sweat some more? Who puts themselves through that?”

Geralt’s answer as he walked away was silently jabbing a thumb towards his shoulder and Jaskier watched as he left the room through swinging double doors. He traced his finger around the grout of a nearby tile and chewed at the inside of his lip.

_How can he sit there and do that to himself?_

_I could never subject myself to that._

_He’ll practically die of suffocation sitting there in that robe._

_Wait._

_People don’t wear robes in saunas…_

He quickly pushed down on the edge of the pool to hoist himself out of the water, grabbed his towel and hastily wrapped it around his waist as he followed the signs to the sauna. When he opened the door, Geralt was in the middle of removing his robe and glanced back over his shoulder to see who was coming in.

“Thought this wasn’t your thing?”

“Yeah well you…” Jaskier trailed off as he watched a shirtless Geralt place the folded up robe where he wanted to sit and turned round to face him. “Are a fucking _liar_!”

Geralt frowned as he sat down, making sure the towel around his waist did not open too far. Jaskier would have made a comment about that if he was not so horrifically turned on by the sight of a shirtless Geralt and so horrifically pissed off by the sight of a shirtless Geralt.

“You told me you didn’t have any tattoos!”

_Oh._

_The whole three wolves big chest piece._

_Might have forgotten about that._

In all truth, Geralt had completely forgotten that he had lied about that. He had only really lied about it in the first place because he never thought that he would be in a position where he would be shirtless around Jaskier. Well, that was a lie, when they first met there had been a brief moment he thought it might happen, but he had quickly pushed that thought from his mind when he realised how annoying Jaskier was.

“Hm,” he grunted and relaxed back against the wall. “You’ve got more than I thought,” he commented, hoping it would distract the other from asking questions about his own tattoo.

Jaskier happily took the bait, always taking the chance to talk about himself when it arose. “Probably because I would have told you about them but I thought you were being judgemental about getting tattoos,” he huffed.

Geralt let his head roll back to rest against the wall too and unashamedly let his eyes rake over every inch of the man before him. Suddenly Jaskier felt a lot more naked than he was and Geralt huffed a small laugh when tried to cover his chest by folding his arms. Jaskier was… more toned and a lot hairier than Geralt had anticipated but he could see tattoos peeking out from under it.

“Why so many on your torso?”

Jaskier shrugged nonchalantly, trying to play off any embarrassment he was feeling and sat down on a bench on the other side of the room to show that he was still a little annoyed. As if the pout was not already doing that for him. “Image.” When Geralt quirked a brow, Jaskier rolled his eyes as if he had not just said it to be mysterious and prompt further questioning. "After I got the mistake of the century, I realised I sort of wanted to make up for it by getting other, actually decent tattoos. But a lot of people do not exactly want to hire someone with a bunch of tattoos. The dandelion was kinda coverable, like I wear the cuff usually and then if not, I could always put covering make up on it. And I passed on the idea of wearing long sleeves shirts all the time because y'know, fashion-“

Geralt grunted. _Yes, clearly I know. Fashion._

”So I just thought I'd stick to places no-one would really see unless we were… uh… _intimate_.”

“And place hope that when they do see them, they’re not turned off?”

“If we were still in that pool room, I’d have splashed you for that.”

Geralt gave a quiet rumble of a chuckle to show that it was only lighthearted teasing and Jaskier could feel the smile trying to tug at his lips and betray him, but nevertheless, he persisted, arms still crossed, pout still in tact.

“Tell me about them.”

One of Jaskier’s knees bounced up and down as he assessed Geralt’s expression. He seemed… genuine. Like he actually wanted to know about them, but on the other hand…

It bounced.

And bounced.

His lip was sore from chewing at it.

He shifted up to the other side of his bench so that he was closer to Geralt, but still kept a fair distance between them, and began to list off explanations of every single tattoo on his body. He had ten on his chest in total, and one that he had planned, in a spot Geralt refrained from mentioning can be rather painful.

“I mean I do have them in other places. My wrist, obviously. One on the side of my foot that says ‘Carefully’ as in tread carefully,” Geralt did not believe for a second that Jaskier would ever tread anywhere carefully, “And uh…” he rubbed at the back of his neck.

“You have one on your arse don’t you,” Geralt asked bluntly.

“I have one on my arse.” Jaskier did not offer up further information until he realised Geralt’s stare was pressing him. He sighed. “A forget-me-not. I thought it was funny at the time, okay?”

“A smart arse.”

Jaskier snorted and noticed that Geralt was smiling slightly too. “I mean, if you insist, I can show you,” he started to get up, threatening to remove his towel and Geralt laughed.

“Trust me, I believe you, you are definitely the kind of person who would get a tattoo on their arse.”

They laughed together and Jaskier was the first to open his eyes back up, immediately looking to Geralt’s to see the little creases around them that were far less prominent than Jaskier’s but ten times more heartwarming to witness.

Jaskier ran a thumb over the small rose tattoo he had got in memory of his grandmother, Rose. “I nearly did it… I nearly got a big piece. I was having a particularly bad uh… self esteem day and thought it might help if I covered up this monstrosity,” he gestured to his wrist, “With a full sleeve flower piece. Lots of different ones all intwined. I love flowers and I think there’s nothing more serene than walking in to a forest or a meadow that’s in bloom. My grandmother always told me that I wore my heart on my sleeve, so I thought it would be fitting to include her in it. But I… chickened out. And got this small one instead…”

“Lily of the valley.”

Jaskier tilted his head to the side as he looked back up at Geralt. “Hmm?”

“Lily of the valley are nice flowers. Yennefer was given a scented candle and it sat in the back of the cupboard for months until we needed something to cover up the smell of cooking. I found the candle and lit it and thought it smelt nice and thought the engraving on the glass looked… sweet. They look like little hats.”

Jaskier smiled fondly. “I always thought they looked like fairies would pluck them and use them as dresses.”

Geralt nodded in agreement with a quiet hum. “Fuck your image,” he said eventually, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them, “Your body is your own creation and you should not model it to fit other people’s desires.”

Jaskier just looked at him, wondering where the fuck that came from.

And Geralt noticed this. “She’s not going to care so long as you don’t get anything dumb.” Not that Yennefer could judge anyway when he knew what tattoo she got when she was younger.

“Like a forget-me-butt?”

“Like a forget-me-butt.”

They both laughed and they both allowed themselves to relax, Geralt fully needing the heat and Jaskier just about coping with it, but he did not know how long he would last.

“So…” Jaskier smoothed over the word and Geralt could already tell he would like like where this was going, “You gonna tell me what yours is about?"

Geralt let his eyes drift shut and Jaskier was about to take it as a no when Geralt let out a deep sigh and ran a hand over his face.

_He was open with you. You can be open with him. It’s not like you’re ever going to see him again anyway_.

“It’s me and my brothers.”

Jaskier cocked a brow even though he knew Geralt could not see. It looked like an… oddly intimidating tattoo to depict a sibling connection.

“When we were young our mother left us and our uncle took us in to stop us from going in to care and being split up. Raised us as if we were his own kids and brought us over to England about a year later thinking there would be more opportunities for us here. He worked multiple jobs and put up with our bullshit hormone fuelled fallouts.” He huffed a quiet laugh. “My brothers can be arseholes when they want to be and I guess I am too. But no matter how many times we wanted to punch the shit out of each other, we knew that if it came to it, we’d have each other’s backs. We were a pack. _Are_ a pack. So we got these to…” He shrugged.

The only person Geralt had ever willingly told about his past was Yennefer, who had thought it was weird that he never mentioned his family, which was rich coming from her. But after he eventually confided in her, she said it explained a lot. When the brothers started to attend school in England and the other students found our in the rumour mill, they were met with either pity or teasing which ended in a lot of fights. And when Geralt’s career took off, the press eventually found out about it too which was… less than fortunate.

After the confession early that day, Geralt could tell that Jaskier was not exactly the teasing type when it came to family matters like this so that left the pity route and he braced himself for it.

But it never came.

“Your uncle sounds like a great guy.” Even though Jaskier said it gently, it made Geralt flinch slightly as without his knowledge, Jaskier had crept over to sit beside him while Geralt had had his eyes closed.

“He is,” he turned his wolf pendant back and forth between his thumb and finger. “When we grew up and settled down, he moved back over to Poland. Lives on a small holding in Białowieża. That’s where I’m headed.”

“You boys really go all out on your wolf theme, huh?” Jaskier nodded the necklace, making Geralt chuckle quietly.

“We got these before the tattoos. Our uncle made one for each of us one Christmas when he knew we would all be going our separate ways soon. The tattoo came a couple of years later as the result of a drunken bet to see who would handle the least amount of pain.”

Jaskier completely over looked the whole drunken bet side of what Geralt had just said, in favour of focusing on: “Wait,” he took the necklace carefully from Geralt’s grip to look at it closer. “Your uncle _made_ this? Bloody hell… he’s so talented!”

“Mm,” an understated noise considering it was his most prized possession.

“I’d ask if you could get him to make me something, but I uh…” he let go of it and shifted back to sitting normally with his back pressed to the wall, “I can’t exactly pull off necklaces. I don’t think I have the right vibe. Rings, yes, obviously, I wear them all the time,” which he did usually, but he had left those back in the room so that he did not lose any while he was swimming, “And I wear my cuff and sometimes I can get away with earrings but necklaces I-“

He was cut short when Geralt suddenly took his necklace and placed it over Jaskier’s head, letting it fall to the man’s chest with a small clinking noise. For something that had been warmed from the heat of Geralt’s body, the metal of the necklace burned Jaskier’s skin as if it was ice cold. It froze him solid.

“A necklace is a necklace. See? It looks fine…” Geralt tried to reassure him as the man stared back at him with wide eyes and an incredibly flushed face which Geralt blamed on the heat of the room and nothing else. His eyes flicked up to the sweat beading on Jaskier’s forehead and he fought back the incredible urge to brush it away for him.

Luckily at the exact moment Geralt did not think he could hold back any longer, Jaskier snapped out of his stunned trance and stood up to walk over to the door. He tried to look at his reflection as best as could in the steamed up glass of the door, and tilted his head from side to side, admiring how… right it looked.

“I’d say you have proven me mightily wrong, but I think it’s just your uncle’s talent that’s making it work.”

Geralt unashamedly watched the muscles of Jaskier’s back ripple as the man shifted between poses and as his eyes trailed up, he took note of the fact that he had never actually seen Jaskier’s hair looking… natural. “Your hair is…”

“Mm?” Jaskier peered back over his shoulder, not quite hearing what Geralt had said.

“It’s curly…” It looked dangerously tempting…

And suddenly Jaskier’s eyes were wide again. “You what?” His neck span back round so fast he could have given himself whiplash. He had been so focused on the necklace that he had not even noticed the fact that his hair was drying. “Oh fuck,” He grabbed at his head as if that would somehow flatten his hair down in an instant. “It’s the damn humidity in here! God damn it, no-one should ever have to see this state.”

Geralt thought it was far from a state In fact, he wondered if it might save Jaskier some time in the morning if he just let his hair dry naturally. It looked just as good as his normal hair, if not, better.

Geralt stood up with a smirk, one that Jaskier, despite being mid hair disaster, noticed in the reflection on the glass and turned around, suspicious.

“It’s the humidity? So in theory… if it got hotter…” Geralt took a couple of steps.

“Don’t you da-!”

“Don’t-“

As Geralt reached to increase the temperature, Jaskier reached for him and grabbed on to the first thing he could. Which just so happened to be the towel around Geralt’s waist. But not anymore.

The pair froze.

Then made eye contact.

Then looked down.

Jaskier’s eyes went wider than a deer’s that did not know if it was facing headlights or heaven’s glow. He quickly turned on the spot to divert his gaze out of respect but it was too late, the image was already burned in to the back of his brain.

Geralt was not exactly ashamed of any part of his body, nor did he have reason to be (Jaskier more than agreed to that), so he crossed his arms and stood there, naked as the day he was born.

“What the fuck did you expect, grabbing at a towel in a sauna? A ken doll?”

Jaskier frowned and span back round, annoyed that all of the blame had been placed on him as if _he_ was the weird one. “No, I didn’t,” he took a step closer to Geralt and thrust the towel at his chest, “I expected you to cover up your bloody modesty in a public place!”

Geralt took hold of the towel that Jaskier was still pressing in to his chest. “It was covered until _someone_ started grabbing at things that shouldn’t be grabbed!”

“ _You_ shouldn’t have threatened to mess up my hair!” Jaskier quickly whipped his own towel off with his other hand to reveal the underwear he had swum in. “Doesn’t take a genius to realise a towel can fall off at any time- you take precautions!”

“It didn’t fall. You. Grabbed. It.”

“You should be so _lucky_.”

They stood there, both glaring at each other dead in the eye, their chests rising and falling, with white knuckled grips on the towel. Sauna or no sauna, there was steam rising from their skin and neither man knew who was going to pull the final trigger.

With almost comedic timing, one of Jaskier’s curls fell in front of his eyebrow. And in a moment Jaskier thought Geralt was pursing his lips for something else, the man blew the curl back in to place.

Jaskier’s glare intensified.

“Fuck. _You_ ,” He pushed Geralt with considerable force, making Geralt take a few steps back in shock and Jaskier let go of the towel, “I’m going to get ready.”

What had been intended as an invitation to join him as Jaskier left the sauna, Geralt interpreted as a ‘leave me the fuck alone’. He watched as Jaskier left without so much as a glance over his shoulder to let Geralt know that they were okay. He looked at the towel in his hand, swallowed, and wrapped it around his waist.

They both just needed time to cool down. Things had just got a little too heated. Blame the sauna.

Geralt stayed in the room for another twenty minutes, wanting to give Jaskier enough space for a while, but eventually Geralt felt a little too… uncomfortable being in public while he… felt like he did. He got dressed back in to the clothes he had worn for the gym and walked back to the room.

He was about to call out to check and see if Jaskier was in there as he opened the door, but the second he opened his mouth to speak, he realised it was too quiet in the room for Jaskier to still be in there. There was evidence that he had been in there though.

The shower was wet. Geralt had an ice cold shower. Jaskier’s clothes were scattered across the floor. Geralt tugged on a black shirt and black jeans. The room smelt of Jaskier’s cologne. Geralt put on deodorant. There was a piece of paper with writing on left on the dressing table and for a minute, Geralt had hoped it was from Jaskier. He read it. He tossed it in the bin. It was just a note from the receptionist to say that Jaskier should wear the clothes that had been provided and that he would need to start playing at eight.

Just under an hour.

Geralt ordered room service.

He hoped Jaskier was eating too.

At about quarter to eight, Geralt finished tying the top layer of his hair in to a bun, grabbed his room key and left for the lobby. He was just about to ask the receptionist where the lounge room was when another member of staff walked by with a small sign pointing the way. He followed the rest of the signs and as he got closer and closer, he realised if he had just started wandering the halls, he would have known where to go, because he could hear a tune that sounded remarkably similar to one Jaskier had been humming every so often in the car. But this time, it was played on a piano.

Geralt turned the final corner and walked in to the room, pausing at the entrance. There were small tables dotted around the room with little jars containing lit candles. A currently unmanned bar. And him.

Jaskier was sitting there on a piano stool with his back to Geralt, playing away as if he had not heard Geralt come in. No flinch, not a turn.

He had kept the curls.

So Geralt stood there, propped up against the door frame, for all intents and purposes, a fly on the wall.

_“Oh darling please be mine._

_He promises to fight them all when it all becomes too much_

_And he, he curses at the world for_

_Leaving him behind and he's falling out of touch_

_And he is stronger than he's ever been he knows-“_

_A little on the nose,_ Geralt thought.

_“And he brushes his hand through_

_His hair, he's got so much fucking hair-“_

_More like a punch to the nose._

_“And he holds him close just to keep the world at bay_

_And when they're sure no-one can hear them_

_he'll turn to him to say, he'll turn to him and say_

_It's not fair, It's not fair how much I love you-“_

_‘Love’?_

_Geralt, you presumptuous bastard._

_It’s been a week and you think the guy who tagged along with you for a free ride and a ticket to a better life has fallen in love with you and wrote a song about you?_

_When did you become this?_

_“It's not fair-“_

_…When did you want this._

_“‘Cause you make me laugh when I'm actually_

_Really fucking cross at you for something-“_

_He glared at me._

_God, that glare._

_But when he turned away…_

_I could have sworn I saw him smirking._

_“And he'll say_

_Oh how oh how unreasonable_

_How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do_

_I'll spend my days so close to you cos if I'm_

_Standing here maybe everyone will think I'm alright-“_

_How long has he been writing this?_

_He wasn’t humming it the first few days we spent together._

_But I’ve been hearing more and more of it._

_Over and over._

_“I've seen enough, he says, I know exactly what I want_

_And it's this life that we've created,_

_Inundated with the fated thought of you_

_And if you asked me to, if you asked me I would lose it all_

_Like petals in a storm, cos darling I was born_

_To press my head between your_

_Shoulder blades at night when light is fading-“_

_That moment._

_Did he feel it too?_

_Like he just… fit?_

_…Fuck._

_“Just to let you know I'm old, waylaid and feels like I am wading into_

_Carpet burns and carousels oh Christ you'll be the death of me_

_And calm throughout his melodrama he_

_Will turn and say 'dear heart It's me, its me_

_You don't need to pretend to be someone you're not_

_Cos it's not like I've never heard you fart and snore-”_

“Huh, so you are good.”

Both Geralt and Jaskier jumped at the sudden interruption, with the latter yelping a little as his fingers slipped on the keys. Both men looked over their shoulders to see the receptionist walk in to the room, clapping and admittedly looking a little bit more relaxed now that he had seen some solid proof of Jaskier’s talent.

“Uh, thank you?” Jaskier rubbed at his neck a little sheepishly, noting Geralt’s presence now too and feeling more than a little embarrassed that the man had heard him sing that song. It was one thing for someone you like to hear a song that you maybe might have possibly written about them, but for them to hear it in an unpolished state? Nightmare worthy.

“Of course, you _know_ you can’t play anything like that tonight, hmm? So I’m guessing you’re just getting it…” he glanced at Geralt briefly before returning back to Jaskier, “Out of your system.”

Jaskier gave a halfhearted, mock salute. “All worded out, I promise.” He played a snippet of a piece by Chopin just to prove it. Geralt recognised it as one of the pieces of music Yennefer used to ground herself when she was feeling stressed. “See, ready for action!”

The receptionist did not exactly look encouraged by this, but he had no better options now other than to trust the man. “They’ll be coming in soon, this is your final warning-“

“Consider me warned!”

The receptionist sighed and turned on his heels. Just before he left the room, he fiddled with the control panel on the wall and dimmed the lights in the room slightly and added a slight violet tinge, which Jaskier was beginning to think was the hotel’s signature lighting. “And you,” he kept his voice low and jabbed a finger at Geralt who stared at it disapprovingly, “Keep him in check.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes and watched him leave. “I’m not his keeper,” he muttered under his breath, but then he turned back to Jaskier, who had his head tilted slightly to the side in curiosity… Maybe just for one night.

“Christ, Geralt, didn’t your mother ever teach you not to sneak-“ Jaskier cut himself off, immediately looking very guilty.

Geralt smirked softly as he crossed the room, as if to say it was alright, in fact, it was kind of funny. “She wasn’t exactly number one teacher mug potential.”

Jaskier gave an apologetic smile in return with a small nod. He decided he should probably address the elephant in the room. “How long have you been standing there?”

Jaskier’s expression was soft, as if the event from earlier had not even occurred. Geralt decided not to bring it up. “‘Fart and snore’? Very… poetic.”

“Yes well,” he chuckled a little and rubbed at the back of his neck again, his knee starting to bounce, “It’s terribly unfinished.”

Geralt tapped Jaskier’s leg lightly with his foot to tell him to stop. “I wouldn’t say ‘terribly.”

The two smiled at each other for a few perfect moments before they both started to speak at the exact same time.

“Geralt-“

“Jaskier-“

Only to be interrupted by the sound of lots of approaching footsteps and voices.

Jaskier sat up straighter, cleared his throat and smoothed down his shirt. “Sounds like it’s show time,” he grinned up at Geralt, “How do I look.”

In lieu of an answer, Geralt shifted one of Jaskier’s curls slightly with a brush of his finger. They both felt a shock, but neither flinched.

Jaskier’s breath hitched as Geralt turned and started to walk away and could not help the desperation in his voice. “Wait!” he called out and Geralt glanced back over his shoulder, “Are you… going?”

Geralt huffed. “I know what happens when you perform, Jaskier, I’m staying here to make sure there’s not another fight.”

Two nods that did not need words to explain the feelings and then a couple of bar staff and about half a dozen wait staff came in carrying big silver platters of tiny foods, followed not that long after by the guests that had attended the conference.

Geralt was glad he had taken his seat in the far corner of the room before they had arrived because the room was soon full of mingling people and he in no way wanted to be a part of that. Still, a couple of people with the same guts that Jaskier had had approached him throughout the evening, offering to buy him a drink, trying to find out what his deal was looking all dark and brooding in the corner, but they were not Jaskier, so Geralt shot them down. Politely of course, he was here to deflect fights after all.

Jaskier did not do too bad himself that evening attention wise. He played continuously for a couple of hours and people seemed to be thoroughly impressed, even offering to buy him drinks. He responsibly refused though, wanting to remain professionally sober while he performed. That, and a small part of him, not that he wanted to admit it for fear of giving in to the weakness, did not want Geralt watching him accept attention.

After multiple polite refusals, some of Jaskier’s bigger fans that night commandeered a glass jug from the bar and placed it atop the piano so that they could place tips in to it and not much time passed before the jug was completely full. Jaskier felt incredibly flattered and with his ego significantly, boosted, he felt confidently cheeky enough to slip in a piano version of one of his own songs, minus the lyrics of course. It took until the beginning of what would be the second verse for Geralt to recognise the song as one of the ones Jaskier had played in the car the other day.

When he did notice, he smirked and looked over to Jaskier who at that exact moment, had looked over to Geralt and smirked right back before closing his eyes and relaxing in to it. With Jaskier blissfully unaware and looking incredibly serene in violet wash of light with his fingers gliding over the keys, Geralt took a picture with his phone.

And it was at that exact moment that he realised that he did not want to leave Jaskier behind.

After playing his own song, Jaskier switched back to the requested classics and Geralt barely took his eyes off of him. Not that Jaskier noticed, he was far too engrossed in his work. Geralt noted that he had a much more serious look to him while playing songs like these, whether that was just the act he was putting on to make him look professional in front of the crowd, or whether he was concentrating extra hard to do the pieces justice, Geralt did not know, nor did he think he would ask the man.

When the receptionist came back in to the room and walked up to Jaskier who continued to casually play but with a reserved expression, Geralt put his hands on the armrests of his chair, ready to push himself off and dart over there to interject. But as the man whispered in to Jaskier’s ear, any reserve melted in to a beam and he nodded to him before clearing his throat.

“Darling audience, you have been wonderful tonight and so respectful carrying out your little… business-y thing so quietly for me,” a couple of people chuckled, “But alas, I am afraid this is your final song of the night as the room is about to close on up.” There were some boos. “Oh I know, I know, it’s been an absolute pleasure and you’ve been most kind. If you have any more deals to close, I do believe there is a bar down the hall that is open ’til three, so go and knock yourselves out,” he winked, “But from me,” he tickled a flamboyant riff on the piano, “It’s goodnight and God bless and make good choices.” Another wink and Jaskier was standing up from his stool to bow which was met with whoops and claps and whistles.

Geralt smirked. _Cocky little showman_.

He caught Jaskier, mid admiring his applause, scan for him in the crowd as if he expected him to stray from the spot he had spent most of the night. And when they locked eyes he grinned once more. Geralt gave a slight nod in congratulations but before Jaskier could even open his mouth to say anything or start to walk away from the piano, a crowd of people started to gather around him to give their congratulations and declare their adorations. Jaskier got swept up in them like a dinghy in the middle of a stormy ocean.

After about ten minutes or so, the crowd had not eased up and Geralt began to feel a certain way and decided it was probably time to turn in for the night. He got up from his chair and gave a final look over towards Jaskier who at that exact moment, had found a gap in his new followers, enough for him to catch Geralt’s eye and mouth ‘thank you’. Geralt just gestured with a nod towards the exit that he was going to go back to the room. Jaskier understood and began to nod to agree, ready to join him, when more questions were thrown at him and a woman stood in front of the gap to block the line of sight between the two men.

Best to leave him to it, Geralt thought, and just hope that nobody took his suggestion of moving along to the other bar and invited Jaskier along with them. He did not think he could handle drunk Jaskier two nights in a row. Plus this time they definitely had to be up early in the morning.

It took him three repetitions of the very British move of slapping his thighs and saying ‘Right!’ before Jaskier was finally able to make his exit and make his way up to the room. An hour had passed since Geralt had made his significantly easier exit and Jaskier worried that the man might already have fallen asleep. For a brief moment he even considered seeing if he could get away with sleeping in a chair in the lobby for half an hour or so and then sneaking back in to the room he had just performed in to sleep in there after everyone else had definitely gone, just so that he would not risk waking Geralt up. But then the secondary thought arose that if Geralt was asleep and he woke up and saw that Jaskier had not retuned to the room, he might assume that Jaskier had gone back to someone else’s room for the night. And in Jaskier’s mind, that was a hell of a lot worse than the man being a little bit grumpy at him for disturbing his slumber. Plus it would be… nice to spend one more night with him.

Only because the bed was nice.

No other reason.

He need not have worried, nor pushed the door open painfully slowly, or crept in to the room, for there Geralt was, wide awake, in bed wearing his glasses and checking through his phone. Topless.

It was not as if it was a new thing, he had seen the same glorious sight but a few hours earlier, and yet there Jaskier stood in the doorway, blinking until Geralt finally looked up at the struck dumb man, helping to bring him back to the present.

“Oh sorry, Clark Kent, I must have the wrong room,” he teased, pretending to go back out of the door.

Geralt threw a cushion at him. A surprisingly hard throw for such a soft item. It hit with a thump, eliciting a quiet ‘Ooft’ from Jaskier followed by a chuckle.

“Laugh all you want, you’ll be the one struggling to read music when you’re older.”

Jaskier laughed and tossed the cushion back on to the bed as he passed it and kicked off his shoes. “Darling, I don’t read music, music reads _me_.”

“I mean…” _No_. Geralt shook his head. He was too tired to argue it.

“I thought you’d be asleep by now,” Jaskier admitted as he gathered a few things from his bag. Geralt did not even look at him, he just continued to type away at his phone. “Did not think there was any point.”

Jaskier had been heading for the bathroom, but he stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

Geralt peered at him over the top of his glasses. “I fully expected you to come running in here, asking me to save you from someone you’d pissed off and I thought well, I’d rather be fully awake than have that sprung on me half asl-“ The more he spoke, the faster he said it, trying to quickly get the words out as he watched Jaskier’s mouth pinch to try and hold back an amused smile and he bent to take off one of his socks and throw it at Geralt, no cushion to hand. The man had terrible aim though, or so Geralt thought, as it landed on the pillow that would be Jaskier’s. Geralt looked at the sock’s landing place and then back to Jaskier, who had already continued his walk to the bathroom. “I’ll leave it there. That’ll knock you out quicker than I could.”

“You’re disgusting,” Jaskier called out from the bathroom, but Geralt could hear him laughing afterwards.

At the sound of running water, Geralt realised that Jaskier had fully intended to leave the door to the bathroom open, in what Geralt could only assume was an attempt to keep up conversation. A week ago Geralt would have got out of bed and shut the door himself. Then again, a week ago he also kept his shirt on while he slept in the same bed as the man. “I was surprised to see you back so soon,” he said as he put his phone down on his lap. He could just about see the mirror in the bathroom, and Jaskier’s reflection in it. He was washing his face.

“Mm,” the man hummed as he let the droplets fall from his face for a few moments before dabbing it dry with a soft towel, “Would have been even sooner, I’m flipping exhausted.”

“I didn’t realise it was so exhausting to be drowning in praise.” _And no doubt in invitations, too_.

“Hah,” Geralt saw Jaskier’s brows quirk slightly as he prepped his toothbrush, “Surprisingly so. Probably a good thing I wasn’t singing-“

“So that more did not fall to your feet?”

Jaskier poked his head out of the door and pointed the toothbrush at him, “Careful you, you’re starting to sound jealous.” Of course, Jaskier meant jealous of his talent, not the attention. He dipped back in to the bathroom.

“Positively green with envy,” Geralt muttered under his breath.

“Of course… I meant… I’d have probably… passed out… on the keys… in exhaustion,” he managed to gurgle out as he brushed.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to speak with your mouth full?”

Jaskier spat out the toothpaste in to the sink. “Only when it’s full of dick.”

Geralt snorted.

“They really liked my playing though, it was deliciously ego boosting. Did you see the jug?”

“Mm,” Geralt hummed as he glanced over at the jug of tips Jaskier had placed on the dressing table. “Might cover the petrol money you owe me.”

Jaskier snorted. “Consider it yours then, you poor, bankrupt bastard.” He moved his routine forwards and started to apply various liquids and creams and oils to his face. “Just leave the business cards for me-“

Geralt felt a slight twinge in his stomach, and started to turn a shade of green that could be colour matched to jealousy.

_Of course people would throw their numbers at him. You’ve seen it before. It’s nothing new. You don’t have a right to feel like this._

“I’m not quite sure how it will work exactly, what with a few of them being in other countries and all that- ooh, maybe I could do video call sessions…”

Even greener.

“I mean, they’re rich, some might fly me out to them if they really wanted to-“

Geralt gritted his teeth to avoid saying anything.

“I’ve just realised this means I’m going to have to brush up on language skills if I’m going to be teaching people whose first language isn’t English. Poor things, learning music is like learning another language, so it’s only fair.”

_Oh_ …

Geralt’s colour muted. “Will you have time for all those lessons while your career kicks off?”

Jaskier barked a laugh. “I’m no fool, Geralt, I’m not talented enough to become a hit overnight, otherwise it would have happened already. Yennefer may be able to help my career, but it’s still going to take time and hard work to get to where I want to be. And until then, I need something to help me pay the rent. So… teaching it is.”

Geralt grunted. It was a sensible idea really, but he just hoped that Jaskier did not overbook himself with lessons and leave himself with no time to work towards his goal.

“How are your nipples not like… daggers right now?” Jaskier shivered and rubbed at his arms to try and warm himself up before he tugged off his shirt.

Geralt frowned, looking down at his chest and then back up towards the bathroom, filled with instant regret as he was met with an eyeful of topless Jaskier. Again, it was not exactly like he had not seen the sight before, but somehow it felt wrong to be watching the man undress. He quickly diverted his gaze once more. “Excuse me?”

He chucked his shirt out of the door and across the room so it landed on top of his bag. “It’s freezing in here!” He then did the exact same with his trousers.

With the second thump of clothing hitting the floor, the tips of Geralt’s ears started to turn red. “I’m hot.”

Jaskier raised his brows, grateful that Geralt was not looking at him to his knowledge. _An understatement_. He started to put on his pyjamas. “I’m not disagreeing there, pet, but how are you not cold?”

Geralt rolled his eyes and directed them back towards his phone as he typed away at another email until he realised Jaskier had been quiet for a while. When he looked back in to the bathroom, Jaskier was just staring in to the mirror and Geralt could not quite place the man’s expression.

“You didn’t have to stay there, y’know.”

_Does he sound… upset_? Geralt contemplated his response and he could see Jaskier chewing on his lip in the mirror. It would bleed soon. “Had better wifi than in here.”

Jaskier choked out a laugh and shook his head before gathering up his things, giving Geralt enough warning to look as if he had been on his phone the whole time and not creeping.

He heard a huff the other side of the bed and glanced over to see Jaskier crouched over his bag like a little gremlin. “What now?”

“Hm?” Jaskier looked up to see Geralt checking on him,” Oh, it’s nothing. I just, now I’ve changed I feel even colder and I left my hoodie in the car. I should be fine, it’ll just take me a little longer to fall-“

“Chair,” Geralt interrupted, having already gone back to tapping at his phone.

“I…” Jaskier looked over to the chair he could only assume Geralt was referring to and it was almost as if he had not planned to orchestrate this whole interaction the second he walked in to the room and noticed Geralt’s hoodie draped over the back of the chair. “Oh. Thank you.” He kept his triumphant smile to himself as he stood up crossed the room to put on the hoodie.

And there was Geralt’s scent again. Not as strong as when his head was pressed against his back, but stronger than the shirt he had borrowed- another memory that had finally come to him from yesterday. Cleverly gaining Geralt’s hoodie for the night killed two birds with one stone; not only did he get a a chance to wear the man’s clothes, it was a chance to leave his own scent on the item of clothing that Geralt would hopefully choose to wear again after they parted and he would smell Jaskier engrained in to the fabric and realise that perhaps he should turn around and pick him up to extend their little road trip. He wondered if it would be too obvious if he sprayed his cologne on it before he gave it back tomorrow morning.

_Just a fraction too strong._

He shook his head slightly, trying to rid himself of the stupidly desperate thoughts, blind to the fact that Geralt’s eyes were fixed on him, amused by how small the jacket made the man look. And the thought of the fact that he knew when he next went to put on that hoodie, it would smell like Jaskier… he pushed it away when the man turned back round and Geralt returned to pretending he had been looking at his phone the whole time.

“This is like… a couple of inches away from being a sleeping bag on me,” Jaskier exaggerated.

“Mm, so you won’t mind sleeping on the floor then?” Geralt did not look up from his phone to see Jaskier’s reaction, but he felt it when, within a second, he had darted over to the bed and tucked himself beneath the duvet.

For the bed alone, Jaskier could see why the hotel charged so much per night, it even felt better than the one he had slept in growing up. He placed his phone on the bedside table next to him and plugged it in to charge overnight and settled down with his back to Geralt.

It was quiet for about a minute, the only sound being Geralt gently tapping at his phone. But it was very loud inside Jaskier’s head. A million thoughts all at war with one another and he did not know which one would prevail.

“Geralt,” he peered over his shoulder, ”Did I…” but when Geralt looked down at him with a questioning brow, all of his thoughts ceased.

“Mm?”

_Do I? No._ “…Did I say goodnight?”

Geralt huffed out a small laugh as he took off his glasses and put them on the bedside table along with his phone so that he could settle down for the night too. He tugged a little on the duvet as he lay down on his side, his back to Jaskier’s. “Goodnight, Jaskier.”

Jaskier tugged it right back. A little further in fact, because he now had a lot more of the cover over him.

Geralt did not mind.

“Goodnight, Geralt.”

_I’ll miss this._

_Fuck, I’m going to miss this._

_Don’t let me go._

_Don’t let me let you go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i first started planning this fic i thought this was going to be my longest chapter by far but actually chapter six was which is funny because as i started to write chapter six i thought it was going to be one of the shortest  
> hate to say it my darlings but we only have two chapters left  
> the next chapter should be up tuesday the 15th of september at 10.30 GMT during the week off ive booked for my holiday on the twentieth so expect a V E R Y emotional me that week  
> not that she isnt V E R Y emotional every week  
> thank you again for you support on the last chapter  
> it gained the most views any of my chapters have got this far and i cannot believe how close we are to 50 comments (obviously i reply to every one which makes me feel like a cheat when i look at the comment count) and 100 kudos which is madness to me because this is just a dumb little thing i wrote to prove something to myself and yet you have all written such lovely things about it  
> i appreciate every single one of them and every single one of you and thank you for sharing my dumb little story with your friends  
> you lot amaze me
> 
> Songs used:  
> Fair - The Amazing Devil
> 
> tumblr: zeebeebrown


	11. Are you there yet? -Y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I've just finished the final step of my five-step facial care routine.”  
> “I think you need a couple more steps.”  
> “Bastard! You’re just jealous of my flawless skin.”  
> “Tell yourself whatever you want, but only one of us is in need of a facial.”  
> “If this is your way of offering, Geralt, it’s a bit forward but…”

It was one of those perfect, fairytale mornings: Jaskier was all nice and toasty wrapped up in the duvet, the birds were singing, the sun was shining…

 _Oh_.

The sun was shining.

The sun should not be shining. They were supposed to be getting up early to make up for some of the lost time.

In his still half asleep state, Jaskier tried to reach out to grab his phone to check the time, but something was stopping him. He cracked open his eyelids a little and looked down.

Suddenly he was wide awake.

A strong, muscular arm was wrapped around him in a vice like grip. It could only belong to one person and that person was the human radiator currently pressed up against his back.

_Oh._

No wonder he had slept so well. Jaskier wondered how long they had slept like this, fitting together like two puzzle pieces, or, closer to the actual shape, two Pringles in a can.

_Damn, I should have bought those Pringles wait that’s not important right now._

Then came the intense mental debate as to whether he should wake Geralt up so that the man could get going to see his family or whether he could be selfish and let the warmth and intimacy, whether subconscious or not, continue until Geralt woke up of his own accord.

And as much as it pained him to come to the conclusion, Jaskier decided that he had already been greedy enough with his decisions and had caused too many delays for Geralt so far on their journey. He had had this moment, perfect as it was with the birds singing, the soft light and the warm, comforting embrace, and it would have to be enough. He would certainly remember it for a long time to come

“Geralt?” his voice croaked with the first word of the morning. He licked his lips and continued without waiting for a reply. “Are you awake?” For good measure, just to test how truly conscious the man was, Jaskier arched his back slightly to press back in to Geralt and see if the morning had brought any gifts.

It had not, but Geralt more than made up for it by instinctively wrapping his arm even tighter around him, his nose burying further in to the hair on the top of Jaskier’s head with a small grunt.

 _That’ll do._ Jaskier smirked to himself, but decided not to push his luck any further. Instead he remained completely still so as to not disturb his captor’s embrace. “What time is it?” he asked, voice a little softer.

“Six.” Geralt’s voice was the complete opposite; a blunt response in an effort to say that now was not the time for making noises, now was a time to go back the fuck to sleep.

Jaskier thought that it was rather interesting that Geralt was awake enough to answer him…

He let the little feeling of warmth wash over his insides for a few more blissful moments before he actually processed the answer and his smug smirk morphed in to a slight frown. “Why is it so bright then?”

Geralt’s eyes shot open.

If the pillow he had been hugging for however many hours smelt like some sort of woody fragrance with hints of wildflowers and honey and coconut then that was just purely coincidental to Geralt’s barely conscious mind. The fact that the pillow’s hair was tickling his nose slightly every time he breathed in? Also coincidental.

So coincidental that his brain did not allow itself time to process the fact that his actual spooning partner was not an inanimate object. Instead it made him quickly flip over, yanking half the duvet with him, which made Jaskier hiss at the sudden cold draught, and grabbed at his phone to check the time.

“ _Fuck_.”

Geralt launched himself out of the bed and immediately began to rifle through his bag.

Meanwhile, rather unashamedly, Jaskier watched the man and drunk in the rather delicious sight of the muscles in Geralt’s back rippling in the soft morning light. He hummed contently and leant over to Geralt’s side of the bed.

Still warm.

“So…” he ran his fingers through the creases in the bedsheet, “What _is_ the time?”

“Time for you to get up,” Geralt ordered as he stood up again, clothes in hand and nodded towards the bathroom door. “I’m going for a shower. Door will be open. You have fifteen minutes.”

It took Jaskier a couple of seconds to process what Geralt had just said, and in that time Geralt had already walked in to the bathroom, taken off his underwear and thrown it across the room, narrowly missing Jaskier.

“I uh…” his brain frazzled momentarily as he looked at it’s landing place and shook his head. _Come on, Jaskier_. “Was that an invitation?” he drawled, smirking even though Geralt was far too prioritised to even glance at him.

Even though he was too busy to look at Jaskier, Geralt knew the man still was not doing as he was told. “Get. Up!” he barked, accidentally slamming the glass door to the shower shut behind him as if to emphasise the demand, but really it was just in haste.

 _Oh. Nope. Right. Not an invitation. Okay_.

Jaskier dragged himself out from beneath the warmth of the duvet that he had been quick to tuck himself back under in Geralt’s absence, and grabbed a few things from his bag before walking rather carefully in to the bathroom. Because sure, Geralt had said he would leave the door open so that Jaskier could get ready at the same time and sure, Geralt had just stripped in full sight of Jaskier because he did not exactly have anything to hide any more, but Jaskier still felt like he was doing something he should not be and tried to divert his gaze from the shower like a young, closeted lesbian walking past a shop selling lingerie.

Luckily the glass was fairly frosted and the steam helped to cover up… the rest. Jaskier just tried to focus on his routine and at first he was able to ignore the awkward atmosphere in the room, but then of course, he began to overthink it.

“Not one for singing in the shower, huh?” Jaskier tried to ease the tension _he_ had imagined.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re brushing your teeth,” came the reply from behind the glass.

Geralt was having none of it apparently.

“Alright, _mum_ ,” Jaskier frowned. “Don’t worry, I’ll be ready in time.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Jaskier’s frown softened because he could hear from Geralt’s tone that he was smirking slightly, reassuring him that maybe Geralt was not actually as annoyed as he had sounded originally.

He chewed at his lip, his reflection obscured by the condensation on the mirror and debated whether or not he should bring up the sleeping situation.

 _Fuck it_. It would only be a couple of hours more awkwardness if it backfired. He drew a face on the mirror with his finger. “So… how did you sleep last night?”

At that exact moment Geralt opened the door to the shower, the noise completely obscuring Jaskier’s question as if he had not said anything and his eyes honed in on the drawing on the mirror as he wrapped a towel around his waist. “Really looks like you’ve been busy getting ready.”

“Hey, I have been! I’ve just finished the final step of my five-step facial care routine.” Jaskier gestured to his face with pride, trying to emphasise the healthy glow he carefully curated.

Geralt looked him up and down. “I think you need a couple more steps.”

“Bastard!” Jaskier gasped and placed a hand on his heart in mock horror, “You’re just jealous of my flawless skin.”

Again, Geralt’s eyes flicked up and down but this time he did not hold back the small smirk that crept on to his face. “Tell yourself whatever you want, but only one of us is in need of a facial.”

“If this is your way of offering, Geralt, it’s a bit forward but…” then it was Jaskier’s turn to let his eyes rake over Geralt’s body. A body covered in toned muscles and glistening water droplets and that tattoo and something was missing and okay, perhaps the stare off was not the best of ideas, but Jaskier held his ground regardless of the growing lump in his throat and even managed to pull off a wink when his eyes met Geralt’s again.

Geralt just rolled his eyes and tugged on a shirt, his towel still covering his modesty when Jaskier turned around, prepped toothbrush in hand. The man hummed, tapping the brush against his palm as he considered something. “You know… I think you would look quite nice in a skirt. Rather…” he took a step closer towards Geralt, still looking down at the towel until the distance was closed, “Fetching.”

The pair stood there for a moment, staring each other down and Jaskier could feel the hairs on his arms stand on end.

“What are you going to do?” Geralt challenged him, “Yank it off again?”

Jaskier’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll yank something.”

The men stood their ground, eyes not straying from each other’s but both flashing through different emotions. Jaskier was about to say fuck it when he noticed the corner of Geralt’s mouth twitch in to a smirk.

“Your breath smells.”

And that was the end of that moment.

Jaskier threw back his head with a laugh and walked over to the sink as if the little charged interaction had never happened and Geralt pulled on a clean pair of underwear underneath the towel. Though he had no idea why, it was not as if Jaskier had not already seen everything.

When he was fully dressed, Geralt walked out of the bathroom and back over to his bag to pack his things away, giving Jaskier ample time to change while he was not looking, as if he had not stripped off in plain sight of Geralt the night before. Well, as far as Jaskier was aware, he had not.

He listened as Geralt phoned what Jaskier assumed was the garage, only piecing it together from a few words that he recognised in Polish.

He cleared his throat when he walked back in to the room after Geralt had finished the short call, as if to announce his presence, and Geralt right on cue, looked up to acknowledge it.

“Hope you brushed well.”

“Please, feel free to check if you want,” he grinned, bearing his pearly whites before running his tongue along the underside of his teeth.

Geralt played off his quick avoidance of the sight with a roll of his eyes as if he was not interested and looked in to the mirror on the dressing table to straighten up his shirt.

Jaskier noted the action as he put his own things away and watched as Geralt picked off a couple of loose threads or a little bit of fluff here and there.

Was Geralt… fidgeting?

Did he seem… nervous?

He continued to watch the man preen himself, smoothing down some flyaway hairs sticking out from the bun he had tied his hair in to and a thought popped in to his head. “Geralt…” he asked softly and dug something out of his bag, waiting for Geralt to eventually turn around to look at him. “Can I brush your hair?”

Geralt blinked and Jaskier thought he looked as if he was trying to find a new way of saying ‘Go fuck yourself’ but then the man surprised him by pulling out the bun and tossing the tie on to the crumpled up duvet.

Which was… distractingly attractive.

Jaskier just about managed to get over it and sat down cross legged on the bed, patting the space in front of him on the edge of the mattress. “Come,” he kept his voice soft.

Geralt did not need to be told twice as he sat down obediently in the space designated for him with a slight huff as he let out some of the tension he had been letting develop inside him.

Neglecting the brush for a moment, Jaskier combed his fingers through Geralt’s hair as gently as he could, avoiding tugging too harshly on any tangles. “You have such lovely hair…”

Geralt grunted.

“It’s true,” Jaskier chuckled and swept back the hair from Geralt’s face and tucked it behind his ears. “Your physique, your bravery and this hair?” He began to untangle the ends with the brush, careful not to pull too hard on the knots and Geralt’s eyes drifted shut, “You could be the modern day Samson for all I know.”

“Cut it off, then you’ll see,” Geralt murmured, letting his head tilt back ever so slightly to give Jaskier better access.

Another chuckle. “Oh I’m positive you don’t mean that. I’m pretty sure to cut these locks would be a crime.” The last knot was detangled and now Jaskier was just brushing for the sake of brushing, which Geralt knew, but… no-one had ever brushed his hair before. “Besides, I’d be a fool if I did not know your strength lies right…” he leant forward, his chin hovering just above Geralt’s shoulder and placed a hand on the man’s chest over his heart, “Here.”

Geralt slowly turned his head to the side and cracked open an eye to look at Jaskier, but with the way Jaskier was looking back at him, both eyes soon opened.

Eyes locked, both men tried to communicate as much as they could with just a single look until, once again, Geralt was the one to break the silence.

“That was disgustingly sappy.”

Jaskier chuckled and sat back down properly, lacing his fingers through Geralt’s hair again. “That’s my specialty.”

Geralt’s eyes closed. “Thought it was charm and wit?”

“What did I tell you? I’m a man of many talents.”

Geralt would agree to that, but not out loud.

“Here, you like the top half pulled back, right?” Without waiting for an answer, Jaskier began to rearrange and braid the top section of Geralt’ hair in to a intricate plait that took close to no time at all which was surprising considering the lack of hair Jaskier had to practise on. “I used to watch my Grandmother braid her hair. It seemed… almost therapeutic. So I started to try and braid my partner’s hair. I wasn’t very good at first but now…” he tied the creation with the discarded hairband and took out his phone to take a picture of his masterpiece so that Geralt could see.

Geralt was impressed to say the least, but again, he would not say it out loud. The man’s ego did not need inflating; he already knew he was talented enough. “Mm,” he hummed instead, “So you do this for all the girls? Tell them they’re pretty and take them to your favourite spot?”

Jaskier laughed at the teasing and added his own with a pat to Geralt’s shoulder as he took his phone back. “Only the special ones, my dear.”

Within a couple of minutes after that, the pair were out of the room, bags in hand. Jaskier was a little pained to leave behind the most lavish place he had ever stayed in, mainly because he had to leave the bed behind.

The same receptionist was on shift again so they bid their farewells to the reluctantly generous man and thanked him for his hospitality, for which they received an eye roll and a call of ‘Nice braid’ as the two men left the hotel.

The taxi ride in to the town was fairly unproblematic but then again, it was difficult for there to be a problem when they rode the whole way in silence. Geralt chopped and changed between staring out of the window and checking the time on his phone and Jaskier was able to watch him do so the whole drive without him noticing because he was too caught up in his thoughts. Jaskier was dangerously tempted to offer a penny for them, but he knew they would be a lot more expensive than that.

Even when they got out of the taxi, Geralt still did not talk to him and in a split moment, Jaskier’s mind raced through every single thing he had done in the last half an hour that could have pissed Geralt off. Turns out there was only one thing and it was so minor that he could not figure out how that would warrant a case of silent treatment, so it must be down to something else.

Having already paid for the taxi while they were still in it, by the time Jaskier had got his guitar out of the car, Geralt had already started to walk away. “Hey, hang on, wait up!” Jaskier called after him.

Geralt stopped in his tracks but did not turn around, he just stood there and waited for Jaskier to do an awkward half-walk half-jog to catch up before he continued walking in the direction of the garage.

“Hey, uh…” Jaskier pointed across the street, “I’m gonna go and get my guitar sorted over there, alright? Won’t take too long, I’ll meet you in a bit?”

Geralt kept walking.

“Geralt?” he raised his voice slightly and thankfully Geralt turned to look at him with a grunt, “Did you hear me?”

The look that the man gave him told Jaskier he blatantly did not so Jaskier pointed over his shoulder at the music shop again. “I’m going to go fix the string and then I’ll meet up with you in about ten minutes, okay?”

A nod and Geralt kept walking.

No ‘Wait, I’ll come with you’ or ‘No, we’ll go after’ or ‘Text me when you’re done and I’ll tell you where I am’. Perhaps those weren’t very Geralt answers, but there was not even a sarcastic reply. Just… nothing. He had not even offered to carry the guitar from the room to the taxi or when they got out of it.

_Maybe he’s just worried the damage to Roach is worse than they first thought._

Jaskier watched Geralt walk in to the garage without looking back, sighed, and walked over to the shop.

Roach’s repair cost just over two thousand zloty and Geralt would have been annoyed that the cost included a replacement of the serpentine belt when he knew for a fact that it did not need replacing, but he was just eager to leave the place as soon as possible. What he was more annoyed about was the fact that they said it was going to be about another ten minute wait before he could take his car back.

Geralt did not notice the similarity between him and Jaskier when he sat down in the waiting area and his knee began to bounce. He tried to distract himself from watching the clock in the room by scrolling through his phone (though he ignored the messages that were coming through) but even then he kept getting distracted by the time display at the top of the screen.

Only the familiar jangling of keys managed to drag his eyes away from his phone and over to the mechanic who had just brought them in to the room. The man typed a few things in to the computer before holding up the keys, making them jingle even more. “Wszystko gotowe,” he gestured for Geralt to come over and retrieve them, “Gdzie jest twój chłopak?”

Almost as if those were the magic words, in came Jaskier with a a grin that suggested that a fixed guitar had healed part of his soul. Which… perhaps it did.

“Na zawołanie,” the mechanic chuckled and dropped the keys in to Geralt’s outstretched palm as he looked over his shoulder to see Jaskier and immediately Geralt felt some of the tension in his body ease though he would not let himself dwell on why that was.

Jaskier held up his safely cased guitar triumphantly. “Well, Geralt, looks like I can still give you one last song to remember me by. We good to go?”

The sense of relief was not a good development, Geralt realised too late.

Somehow Jaskier had managed to convince Geralt that he could give directions to where he wanted to be dropped off, rather than putting in any details in to the navigation system. Actually, it did not seem like Geralt would have put up much of a fight with anything. He barely spoke two words to Jaskier for the first few hours of the drive; any questions or attempts to start conversation topics were answered mainly in grunts or simply ignored.

He did not know of all of the thoughts that were whirling their way through Geralt’s mind. They were too loud to focus on anything else and it was a miracle that the man had driven this far without causing an accident.

Jaskier could see something was wrong still; he could see the worry in Geralt’s eyes every time he checked the rearview mirror. He could see the tension returning to the shoulders that he had tried to hard to ease. If he asked, he knew he would not receive the answer that he wanted. If he offered to help he would either make it worse or he would be ignored. So what other choice was there than to do what he had promised.

Careful not to disturb Geralt’s driving, Jaskier leant over his seat to take out his guitar. His fingers hovered over the strings, trying to decide what to play, but then, what else could he play than the song that was made for this moment. He worked hard for a few moments to level his breathing though his heartbeat began to race; the world’s most unhelpful metronome.

As Jaskier’s fingers started to tug delicately at the strings, Geralt was suddenly dragged back in to the present as he recognised the familiar tune.

 _Is he really playing this now_?

He did not know how he felt about the fact; on the one hand it was a wonderfully heartfelt song and it showcased Jaskier’s talen, but on the other hand it was a wonderfully heartfelt song that Jaskier had chosen to play just before they were to part ways and the last thing Geralt was going to remember him by. Which, needless to say, was difficult to process.

_"_ [ _It’s what my heart just yearns to say_ _  
_ _In ways that can’t be said_ _  
_ _It’s what my rotting bones will sing_ __  
_When the rest of me is dead_ _  
_ _It’s what’s engraved upon my heart_ _  
_ _In letters deeply worn_ ](https://genius.com/The-amazing-devil-fair-lyrics#note-19603494) _-"_

Geralt frowned. “Sounds a bit depressing,” he noted, interrupting Jaskier’s playing.

Considering the first thing Geralt had properly said to him since the start of the drive was calling his song depressing, when in fact it would have been the opposite if he had been allowed to continue, Jaskier was a little taken aback. “It-it’s not-“ he tried to splutter out an explanation, but ultimately he decided against it and stopped himself. And now… he did not quite know what to do with himself. What do you do when you are about to part ways with a man you have fallen quite literally head over heels for and you try to sing a song you have written for him that explains your feelings, but he stops you and calls it depressing? Well, what Jaskier did was to start fiddling with one of his rings.

Geralt noticed out of the corner of his eye and when the man started to chew on the inside of his lip, the guilt started to set in. He had not meant for it to sound like an insult, but as a comparison to the frankly sickeningly sweet lyrics Jaskier had sung the night before, these were a complete contrast and he wondered what had changed between then and now to warrant such an alteration.

 _It’s because you’re a preoccupied, distracted bastard, that’s why_.

 _Stop being an arsehole_.

 _Make an effort_.

Geralt turned his head to glance at Jaskier and nodded. “You wear a lot of rings.”

“Mm?” Jaskier hummed, surprised to hear Geralt initiate conversation after all those hours, but smiled as he admired the collection on his fingers, knowing that Geralt had thrown a scrap of attention his way. “I do, don’t I?” The two discussed them for a while and Jaskier went through the story behind each ring. Only one finger was bare. “And this one was my grandfather’s,” he shifted the signet ring on his right index finger, “My grandmother gave it to me after he passed. I had to get it resized, of course; not everyone is blessed with such lithe fingers as I.” He swept his fingers proudly under his own chin, showing them off in their decorated glory to which Geralt rolled his eyes but hid a slight fond smile.

He had never met a man so narcissistic. He had also never met someone who pulled it off quite like him, but he did not dwell on that thought.

Geralt tried to make more of an effort after that; asked a few questions that prompted long, rambling answers from Jaskier to satisfy his need to talk and when asked questions himself, he made sure to give more than a couple of words as answers. Eventually the conversation died down again, but Jaskier looked a lot more happy this time, for he would not have to remember a silent car ride as their last interaction with each other. Instead there were laughs and smiles and more getting to know each other and Jaskier realised it was going to be a lot more difficult to leave Geralt than he thought.

Determined not to focus on that until the moment arrived, Jaskier put on a smile and shifted in his seat to face slightly more towards Geralt. “Go on then, any final requests?”

A silence fell between them for a good few moments, a silence where Geralt did not look at him and Jaskier began to worry that they had fallen back to where they were at the start of the drive.

But Geralt was thinking.

And thinking.

And just as Jaskier was about to start bouncing his leg, Geralt gave his answer.

“The camping one.” He reiterated when Jaskier looked at him a little confused, “The one you started to show me when we were in the woods. You were humming it yesterday so I thought you might have…” he trailed off but it did not matter.

Jaskier took a moment to get over the fact that not only had Geralt remembered the song and recognised it just from a hum of the tune, he had liked it enough to request it. He nodded knowing full well what Geralt had thought and tried to not let his smile be as wide as it wanted to be. _Casual, Jaskier, casual_. “Yeah, no, I did. At least I think I’ve finished it. Wrote the last line on the drive to Berlin, but haven’t actually tested it out loud since that night in the woods.”

“Well…” Geralt nodded at him and his guitar. “Test it out.”

There was no holding back the grin then.

_“Without you, I’m stronger, I’m no longer_

_filled with wonder._

_How wrong you were._

_For you, my lungs were pulled asunder._

_Saw that wild blue yonder and said: ‘such endless blue’…”_

Geralt did not even need to look at Jaskier’s eyes to picture their endless blue, at this point he was convinced the image of them was burned in to his brain for life. He would see many similar shades in everyday life that would remind him of those eyes, but nothing could ever possibly match their depth.

It was really something to hear the completed song from start to finish. To hear another one of Jaskier’s songs that was already good enough to go straight to a recording booth judging by the fact that as Jaskier hit the final chorus, Geralt got the exact same goosebumps he had done that night in the woods when it felt like Jaskier’s voice was sinking through his skin and electrifying his blood as it flowed through his veins.

And rather than shake off the feeling, Geralt let it surge through him until the final note.

Jaskier let the last string of the guitar fall still before he looked a little sheepishly over at Geralt, wondering if the man regretted the choice of song.

Geralt huffed and gave him a sidewards glance. “So you kept in the robot vampires?”

The pair laughed about it for a little while, and discussed the reasoning behind some of the lyrics until Jaskier noticed that Geralt’s replies got shorter and shorter and his smile faded and faded with every sign they passed and they were quickly back to square one.

The man swallowed when he figured that asking for another request was probably out of the question if the previous one had only been such a temporary fix and reached over to put his guitar away again. Rather than sit back down in his seat normally, he leant up against the door more so that his body was even more twisted to look at Geralt easier. There was no hiding it, nor was there a need to, Geralt did not even notice Jaskier blatantly staring at him with an almost pained expression because he did not know what he could do to cheer the man up, nor could he figure out exactly what was causing it.

If he looked hard enough, he could see the millions of thoughts spiralling through Geralt’s mind, almost breaking down the damn of the walls he had built up again after Jaskier had tried so hard to dismantle them brick by brick.

If only he could read them.

If only he could help.

But you cannot help everyone.

_Don’t flatter yourself, he’s not nervous about you._

_About leaving you._

_There’s something else._

_He’s…_

“Geralt?”

A quiet hum, eyes still fixed on the road ahead.

“Why are you ner-“

“When’s the next turn?”

“Huh? Oh, right. Uh…” Jaskier looked out of the window for the first time in a while and was surprised by what he saw. “Actually… it’s kind of um… here.” Jaskier gestured out of the window and Geralt immediately pulled up on the side of the road. Safely, of course.

“Here?” he frowned looking exactly where Jaskier had pointed to.

A cemetery.

“She’s um…” Jaskier rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly, realising that perhaps he should have admitted this fact previously, but it was a little too late now.

“A caretaker?”

A beat.

“Dead.”

Another.

“She’s dead.” Geralt repeated and his hands gripped tighter around the steering wheel.

Jaskier tensed. He was not used to someone reacting to news like that with such an unfeeling tone. He almost sounded… annoyed.

“Look, I know I didn’t say anything but it’s true, I haven’t seen her in years and you said you were heading over this way and you didn’t have any company so-“

“I didn’t need company.”

Jaskier frowned, unable to figure out why this was upsetting Geralt so much. It was not like he was the one with a dead relative. “What’s the big deal-“

“The big deal, Jaskier,” Geralt turned to look at Jaskier for the first time since he pulled over and Jaskier almost wished he had not because of the glare he received, “Is not everything in life revolves around you-“

That hurt a little and it showed. “I never said that it did…”

“She’s dead, Jaskier, she’s not exactly waiting for you.”

“Geralt…” there was not an ounce of faking the sharp intake of breath Jaskier reacted with to the most unsympathetic thing Geralt had ever said to him. But he realised the anger Geralt was feeling was not entirely his fault, so he tried to harden himself up a little by straightening himself in his seat. “Look, I’m sorry but your car breaking down is not exactly my fault, Geralt. If I could have fixed it, I would have but I’m not a wizard. Your family are going to understand why you’re late-“

“I’m adopting my godchild.”

Silence.

It almost felt as if a weight had been lifted from Geralt’s shoulders as the truth was finally out in the open. It was the first time he had said it to someone who was not in his immediate family or the authorities who had helped him arrange it after the death of the child’s parents. It was not even a secret; if anyone would have asked (not that they had any reason to) he would have admitted it perfectly fine. But by keeping quiet about it, keeping it to himself, he could mentally delay accepting the reality that it was happening. For the closer he got to it actually happening the more nervous Geralt felt about it. The more afraid he was that he was going to mess things up.

But now Jaskier knew.

The man choked out a laugh that was more in shock rather than he had found humour in the revelation.

And suddenly the weight was back. “You think that’s funny?”

“What? No! Well… it is kind of funny to imagine _you_ trying to raise a child.” His eyes widened when he realised how that sounded and he had never wanted to take something back more in his life.

Geralt nodded at the door. “Get out.”

Jaskier blinked. “What?”

He did not raise his voice. “Get. Out.” But somehow, it was more scary.

“Geralt, wait, come on I didn’t-“

“Now.”

“Geralt, honestly, I didn’t mean it like that. You’ll be a great dad I just meant that-“

“Dammit, Jaskier, I have had more help preparing for a child in this week alone than I have in my whole life. You have been nothing by childish the whole fucking time I’ve known you. Your stubbornness, pouting, the silent treatments, making sure you get your way and do things that you want to do even though you _knew_ I had somewhere to be: the cinema, the pub, Berlin. It’s always one fucking thing after the other with you. Good luck keeping a contract with Yennefer because believe me, she won’t put up with half the shit I’ve put up with.”

“You could have said no…” He was only trying to get to know Geralt and knew full well that the man had a mind of his own and could have refused and carried on the journey at any time, but he had not. Jaskier’s leg began to shake but Geralt refused to acknowledge it.

“You make it impossible to! You want what _you_ want. Fuck, and God forbid if anything gets too real and you have to make an adult decision about your career with an opportunity that’s basically handed to you, one that people work their arse’s off for and yet there you are, scared shitless and trying to give up before anything’s even started.”

“That’s not fair…” There was zero fight left in his voice and barely enough strength in him to even look at Geralt in the eye.

“You know what, Jaskier? Life’s not fair. I would have thought you’d have understood that by now.” What was not fair was that there was a child out there who had just lost their parents and now their parental figure was someone that people could not imagine as a father. Someone whose own parents had not wanted him. A Butcher. An arsehole.

Geralt shook his head with a sigh, trying to release some of the steam he was harbouring and turned away from Jaskier, unable to look at him anymore. ”I should have left you back in Ireland.” And he should have kept the thought to himself. As soon as the words left his lips, the red cleared and the weight of everything that he had said before caught up to him. And the regret. But the damage was already done.

Jaskier’s insides felt like they were quivering and he could feel tears pricking at his eyes threatening to spill over and his heart felt like it had been punched to half the size and was stuck in his throat, hiding behind the lump that had formed there.

He looked broken.

And it was Geralt’s fault.

“Right uh…” he sniffed and wiped at his eyes, furious at himself for letting Geralt’s words get to him so much. “Right then,” the usual slap of his thighs was more of a quiet tap, giving Geralt a chance to say something to stop him.

But there was silence.

The click of Jaskier undoing his seatbelt seemed to echo. He looked at Geralt for a brief moment before he got out of the car and gathered his belongings from the back seat and went back to the front passenger door. He leant down so that his head was level with the passenger window and was going to wait for Geralt to look at him, but he would have been waiting an awfully long time. It took him a couple of moments to figure this out and a couple more trying to force words out of his mouth. “See you around, Geralt.” Not the most perfect of endings. In fact, not perfect at all.

Especially as Geralt did not even reply.

Without moving his head, Geralt’s eyes flicked to look at Jaskier as the man started to move away from the car.

 _Fuck_.

“Jaskier.”

Right on cue, Jaskier hurried back to the window a little too enthusiastically, his expression painfully hopeful. “Yes?”

Geralt held out his hand and Jaskier’s heart began to lift even more.

“Necklace.”

And then plummeted.

“Oh.”

With one hand still holding his guitar, Jaskier took off the necklace, squeezing the pendant for a second before carefully lowering it on to down on to Geralt’s palm. Jaskier’s hand had just about touched Geralt’s by a fraction of a hair when Geralt moved his hand away and dropped the necklace on to the passenger seat, eyes back to being glued on the road ahead.

 _It’s still warm_.

When Jaskier made no move to step away from the car again, Geralt took a breath in and started the engine, making the man jump.

 _So this is it then_.

 _All good things must come to an end_.

It took every ounce of will left in his body to hold back the words he wanted to say. His heart was screaming at him to stay, but his head told him now was the time to let go. Perhaps now he would finally start to listen to his head over his heart.

 _Please, just look at me_.

But Geralt was a hypocrite. He was just as stubborn as Jaskier. While his heart was screaming at him to apologise and take it all back as much as he could and tell him to get back in the car, his head was telling him that he had already hurt the man too much and it would be better if they parted ways now before Geralt had a chance to fuck things up even more.

So when Geralt did not did not so much as glance in Jaskier’s direction, it made it very clear to him that he had nothing left to say. Despite the protests of every fibre of his being, Jaskier turned and started to walk away from the car again.

 _Don’t look back_ , he told himself, his nails digging in to his palm and tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. If he did not look back as Geralt drove away, then he could stop his heart from falling to the floor. The sight of it would not have to stay with him.

 _Please don’t look back_ , Geralt willed Jaskier as he started to pull the car away from the curb. Because if he looked back and Jaskier was looking at him with any ounce of hope in his eyes, Geralt knew he would turn the car right back round and if could find it in himself to forgive him, it would only be a matter of time before Geralt fucked things up again.

So neither man looked back.

At first.

Geralt looked in to his rearview mirror just as he reached the top of a hill. But Jaskier was still walking away.

The second Geralt took his eyes away from the mirror, Jaskier turned back. But Roach had already driven over the crest.

It was not difficult to remember where his grandmother’s gravestone was, it was the most gorgeous one in the cemetery. Or at least Jaskier thought so.

His bag dropped from his shoulder and he placed the guitar up against the stone as he kneeled down in front of it.

“Hey, Grandma… I fucked up…”

A sniff.

“Again.”

It was a very, very quiet drive the rest of the way to Vesemir’s. Too quiet. Even if there had been any noise, Geralt would not have heard it. His mind was too loud.

_Idiot._

_Fucking idiot._

_You hurt him._

_Why did you hurt him?_

_It wasn’t his fault._

_It’s your fault._

_He was trying to help you._

_All you had to do was apologise for being a fucking idiot._

_You agreed to everything he wanted to do because you wanted to delay the inevitable and as much as you don’t want to admit it, you liked spending time with him._

_You liked him._

_You actually liked him._

_You haven’t liked anyone since Yennefer and he felt different._

_You knew him for a week and yet you felt something for him._

_He saw you._

_Nothing was forced with him._

_But you forced him away._

_Just like you did with Yennefer._

_You’re a terrible partner._

_You’re a terrible human._

_You’re going to be a terrible father._

After about forty minutes of self torture involving agonising himself over the fact that if he could fuck up a friendship that lasted only a week, how was he going to cope with parenthood, Geralt drove up the path to Vesemir’s smallholding and parked outside the house that had brought him so much comfort over the years.

This house was the first place Vesemir had taken the brothers after the abrupt departure of their mother. The place they went to relax growing up, when the family needed a break from England and the arguments were solved with good old fashioned team work. The place Geralt disappeared to for a while after deciding to retire early from his career and the first place he went after his divorce so that he could heal with hard, physical labour.

It was the place Vesemir had retuned to full-time, knowing that the chapter of his life in England was complete. And now here Geralt was, ready to start the newest chapter of his life with the addition of a new character.

After the loss of one.

Deep breath in.

Long sigh out.

He needed to focus on the future now. The child would be his number one priority. He had another life to think of now, another life to protect. She had been through a lot already in her short life that she had lived and Geralt was going to try his hardest to not mess up her life any more. There would be no opportunity to erase any mistakes, no undo button to make life easier. What was wrote was written, so he would have to get it right the first time.

Jaskier had to be his final mistake.

Geralt got out of the car and braced himself on the door for a moment or two, preparing to face his future.

And then there was the first sound he had heard in nearly an hour.

“Took your time.”

Geralt turned round on the spot and was surprised to see, when he looked down, how close the voice was as it had sounded a fair distance away. As he opened his mouth to apologise, the small arms of a young child wrapped around his waist and he was taken aback slightly as the fears he had felt leading up to this point started to wash away after such a small gesture. He hugged her back.

“It’s fine,” she reassured him as she pulled away and beamed up at him, “Better late than dead, right?”

A noise that sort of sounded like a laugh that he did not know if he should be doing choked out of Geralt before he quickly cleared his throat. “Ciri, maybe hold back on the dead parent jokes when you start school, okay?” The fewer times he had to be called in to talk to worried teachers, the better. Although he was looking forward to watching Ciri grow and develop her brain, he was not looking forward to parent-teacher evenings.

“Why?” she frowned in protest, “Lambert said you guys used to joke about your mum all the time!” Vesemir had said something along the lines of repression or depression, but in all honesty, both applied quite well in context.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear; Geralt looked over to the front door to see Lambert leaning up against the frame. “Before you ask, no, I did not teach her that.” He may not have taught the girl it, but he would have encouraged it.

In a small way, Geralt was relieved that Ciri had moved on to this stage after seeing the inconsolable state she was in the last time he had seen her, so soon after the death of her parents. It might not be the healthiest of coping mechanisms, but he would be there to help her through it.

Rather than give Lambert the satisfaction of a reaction, Geralt grabbed his bag and walked up to the house with Ciri skipping along in front, leading the way.

“Geralt,” Vesemir nodded when his adopted son crossed the threshold, “Good to see you again.” That was as warm of a welcome back as he was going to get, but for Geralt it was more than enough.

“Vesemir,” he returned the nod and watched as his father figure passed in front of them to walk in to the living room. _It’s good to be back_.

“Where’s your fella then?” Lambert nudged Geralt in the ribs with his elbow as he was putting down his bag and was met with with a disbelieving glare. “What? Yennefer and I bond over our love of bitching about you. It’s the only time she doesn’t scare me because her annoyance is directed at someone who definitely isn’t me.”

With his expression doing the answering for him, it did not have a chance to intensify because Ciri was back at his heels, making Geralt nearly elbow her in the face at the speed she skidded over to him.

“Did you bring me anything to make up for you being so late?”

The helpful reminder prompted Geralt to open his bag and fish out the present that had been waiting in there all week. “Your godmother got you som-“

“Present!” Ciri screeched and reached out grabbing hands towards the gift.

The action received a swift, calm, “Cirilla,” from Vesemir who had sat down in an arm chair on the far side of the room, making Ciri instantly reign in her excitement with a small sigh before she rolled back her head slightly and yelled at the ceiling.

“Thank you, Yennefer!”

Geralt handed over the gift and watched as Ciri ripped apart the packaging enthusiastically to reveal a rather realistic looking wolf plush with a tag tied snug around it’s neck with a ribbon, almost as if it was a collar.

Ciri pinched the tag between her fingers and read the beautiful handwriting out loud. “‘Don’t catch fleas’?”

Lambert barked out a laugh and Geralt rolled his eyes.

 _No mistaking that’s from Yen_.

Ciri looked up at Geralt with wide eyes that he just knew would get him in to all sorts of trouble in the years to come, because even now he could not imagine ever saying no to a face like that. “Does this mean I’m part of the pack now?”

Geralt wrapped an arm around her shoulders, knowing full well that was why Yennefer had bought it for her.

“Of course you are, princess,” Lambert assured her as he collected the discarded wrapping, “It’s about time there was a cub about to help make Ves feel young again.”

“Raising you,” Vesemir piped up and they all turned to look over to him, “Drained every ounce of youth from me.”

Lambert let his mouth fall open and gave a gasp as if the comment had hurt him and the familiarity of the gesture stung Geralt a little.

Ciri just giggled and rushed over to Vesemir, perching atop the arm of the chair. “I don’t know, you look pretty young to me, Vesemir.”

The old man chuckled, a noise very rare to Geralt and Lambert’s ears, but much like the child had won over their hearts, Vesemir clearly had found a soft spot in his heart for her too. “Mm,” Like father, like adopted son, “I think we’ll keep you.” He said as if every single person in that room had not fully accepted her as their own the second the need arose. “But be nice all you want,” he continued, hiding a small smirk from her, “We’re still having stew for dinner.”

“Rats.”

The next morning all four stood in front of the house and Vesemir handed a suitcase full of Ciri’s belongings over to Geralt. “Some stuff I’ll get the boys to bring over with them.” Lambert could take a case-full when he flew back over to England in a few days and Vesemir would designate another suitcase to Eskel when he was scheduled to arrive next week.

“Yes because apparently we’re not allowed our own luggage, we’re now a removal company,” Lambert grumbled as he came over to the front door to see them off.

“I’m not paying you,” Ciri stuck out her tongue at him.

“Oh? Not even in… hugs?” Lambert growled as he swooped towards her and scooped her up off the ground.

Ciri’s squeals of glee as Lambert swooped her up and down around the front yard brought a smile to Geralt’s face and, he noticed, even brought one to Vesemir’s.

“Drive safe,” was Vesemir’s only verbal advice, ever the man of few words (you could tell where Geralt got it from) but the better advice came from what followed. A hand on Geralt’s shoulder. A way of saying that everything would be fine and to relax, enjoy it and slow down because the years would now fly by in the blink of an eye. In fact, when Lambert eventually put Ciri down, who was now trying to get her breath back after giggling too hard, Geralt could have sworn she had grown a couple of inches. He was definitely going to learn not to wish days away.

Geralt nodded in a silent thanks, picked up the bags from the floor and carried them over to Roach, giving Ciri ample time to hug Vesemir goodbye.

“Don’t be late,” Geralt warned Lambert as he shut the back passenger door.

To which Lambert crossed his arms defensively and puffed out his chest slightly in a huff. “When am I ever late to work?”

“I think you mean when are you ever on time?”

Lambert was about to punch Geralt on the arm when two small arms wrapped around his waist, drawing his attention downwards. “I still think you should come back with us, Lambert,” Ciri pleaded and the wide eyes threatened to make an appearance.

“It’s alright, princess, I’ll be over a couple of days after you get back. Geralt’s barred me from his car because he’s a dick.”

“Language,” Vesemir narrowed his eyes.

“I’m not the dick-“

“Language.”

“Any sane human can only hear the phrase ‘Are we there yet’ a limited number of times before they start to fantasise about a button that ejects the car seats through the roof.”

“Huh, weird, I thought it was the car-aoke sessions that got to you the most… interesting…” While Geralt walked round to the other side of the car, Lambert bent down to whisper in Ciri’s ear: “I’ll give you a tenner if you keep asking him ‘Are we there yet’ and twenty quid if you tell him that you need to go to the toilet after you’ve already pulled away from a service station.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, dick.”

Vesemir sighed.

Belongings safely in the car and goodbyes all said and done, Geralt opened the passenger side door for Ciri and took hold of her seatbelt, only for her to promptly take it from him with a huff.

“Geralt, I can do my own seatbelt, I’m ten, not a child.”

Geralt grunted in agreement, though she was very much still one, and closed the door after making sure all of her limbs were in the car. He walked round to the other side of Roach to get in to the drivers side, trying not to think to much about the fact that for the first time in over a week, he would not be getting back in with Jaskier sitting by his side. Sure enough when he got in, the man was not there in the passenger seat. Instead, Ciri was sat where he had left her, as expected. What he did not expect, however, was the puzzled look on her face.

“I did not take you for the guitar playing type, Geralt.”

Now it was Geralt’s time to frown. “I don’t.”

“Then what’s this?”

Geralt turned his head to her to look at the bit of broken plastic she had picked up from the footwell in front of her.

 _Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the delay im on holiday for my birthday with my family and that mixed with a bunch of other busy things and the fact that i was r e a l l y not looking forward to writing this chapter (i apologise its the worst one of the bunch) led to me only finishing writing it about an hour ago
> 
> again mega sorry for the poor quality of this chapter but hey ho here we go
> 
> Songs used:
> 
> Fair - The Amazing Devil  
> Wild Blue Yonder - The Amazing Devil
> 
> tumblr for updates: zeebeebrown


	12. Don’t say I never do anything for you. -Y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, where can I set up to dazzle a crowd?”  
> “You could stay right there and dazzle me some more or there’s a stage over there. Give us a shout if you need anything. A hand setting up, shot for your nerves, my number.“  
> “A glass of water will do just fine, dear, us musicians need to keep our throats lubricated."  
> “Oh, I can think of other ways to help that.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQzdAsjWGPg 0:00 - 0:11

“Well what do people usually mean when they say ‘Don’t say I never do anything for you, Geralt?” Despite the crackling of the phone connection as Geralt drove, he could quite clearly hear how patronising Yennefer’s tone was trying to be.

“I know what normal people mean by it, but you're not normal-“

“Rich coming from you.”

“Coming from _you_ it’s unnerving.”

“Geralt, I don’t know what you’re talking about, when has one of my favours not worked out for you?”

“Our marriage.”

There was a scoff and Geralt appreciated the fact that their time as a couple was something they could joke about now. Considering their relationship turned out to be quite a toxic one with all buttons pushed being the wrong ones that brought out the worst in both of them, it was surprising when their split was amicable and they turned out to be better friends apart. The only thing Geralt regretted from the break up was the media’s coverage of it and leaving it so long before speaking out against the negative headlines. It was not a fun few weeks.

“Point made,” Geralt could hear her rustling some papers and knew that she was still in her office despite an offhand comment the day before that she had somewhere to be directly after work, “You shouldn’t be reading your messages while you’re driving anyway. It’s a fucking safety hazard.”

“Language.” Geralt had picked up the scalding habit from Vesemir rather quickly due to the fact that he was raising her in the same environment as two sailor-mouthed, burly men. And technically Yennefer too, sometimes.

“Huh…” Yennefer huffed, obviously calculating something as she looked at the clock for what was apparently the first time in a long time because she had no idea it was that late. “School run.”

“Hello, Yennefer!” Ciri finally piped up in her singsong voice.

When the text message from Yennefer came through, Geralt had Ciri read it out to him on the account that he was driving and you should never text and drive or drink and drive (or pick up a stranger, sing, catch feelings and drive). When she did, a million and one worries appeared in Geralt’s head, as happened in most conversations he had with the Yennefer, and so immediately got her to text the woman back ‘What the hell does that mean but you can’t use that word outside of the flat okay you’ll get written up by your teachers and then I’ll get called in and I’ll have to pretend to be disappointed in you and no don’t write all of that bit’. Admittedly he got her to edit the last part out.

About three seconds after the message had been sent, Yennefer called and Geralt got Ciri to put it on handsfree.

“Darling, next time say ‘Hello’ when the call starts, it’ll save me an earful from Jack Frost.”

“White Witch,” Geralt muttered under his breath.

Yennefer was not deaf and Geralt’s phone was not exactly cheap, so she heard him loud and clear. “I wish I was one, then I’d hex you.”

“You two have such a great friendship,” Ciri rolled her eyes. While she missed having two parents and she wanted Geralt to find happiness with someone, she was kind of glad that person was not Yennefer because she did not think she could deal with their constant bickering.

“Hah, quite,” more rustling of papers and opening drawers, she was getting ready to leave the office now that she realised what the time was, “How is your final week of school going, dear?”

“Good! Mostly… I had my final drama club today which was sad.”

“I can imagine, but go back; what do you mean ‘mostly’?” Geralt could tell by Yennefer’s voice that she was getting ready to take down any son of a bitch kid that had upset Ciri. Not that she would fight a kid, she was not about to go to prison over it, but with her status it would not exactly be difficult to find out the kids favourite celebrity and get them to do a personal PSA about bullying and make the kid feel like utter shit that their idol was disappointed in them. At least, that is how Yennefer’s mind worked.

“It’s fine, really, most of it’s been good, but the school’s really hyping how different it’s going to be going to a Secondary school, how it’s going to be super difficult and I don’t know… I don’t think I’m ready for it.”

Geralt was just about to call bullshit on it and reassure Ciri that she was more than ready because she was already smarter than Eskel and Lambert combined, but the girl beat him to it.

“I suppose I could just use the whole ‘dead parents’ excuse.”

“You could, you could,” Yennefer hummed in agreement.

“What have I said about those jokes,” Geralt warned her and earned himself an eye roll, “And you,” Yennefer knew Geralt was referring to her simply by the tone alone, “What have I said about encouraging it?”

“That she’ll do it anyway?” There was a snap in the background as she closed her laptop down. “Look, Ciri, you’re a smart kid. Annoyingly smart-“

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You’ve come through a lot in your life already and you’ve grown from it. One small change like going to the next school up isn’t going to throw you in the slightest. You’ve already moved countries _and_ schools in the last year and you loved this one. Going to secondary school is going to be exactly the same, if not better because you get to learn more interesting things and you’ll get to challenge yourself. Just promise me you’ll choose business studies as one of your options and then you can spend your work experience with me-“

“You’ve already got a PA,” Geralt interjected, though he was quite proud of Yennefer stepping up and delivering a pep talk.

“Yes, but I don’t have to pay Ciri and Tissaia needs a holiday eventually. We digress; you’re going to be absolutely fine, Ciri. I mean, if you can handle living with Geralt and seeing his flea ridden pack everyday, you can handle anything.”

“You’re still part of that flea ridden pack too, y’know,” Geralt reminded her, unable to hide a slight smile from Ciri, but he was glad Yennefer was separated from them by a phone line, “Divorce doesn’t let you escape it that easily.”

“Mm,” she hummed and Geralt could practically hear the eye roll, “That reminds me, I need to take my flea and wormer treatment tonight.”

“Don’t choke.”

“And leave behind a world without my wonderful personality, uplifting words and beautiful looks? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Ciri giggled and it brought Yennefer back on to the topic at hand. “Besides, it’s not as though you’ll be going to that school alone, is it?”

“Yeah! I found out today that Dara’s going to be in the same form group as me!”

“See? Even better. You’ll look out for each other,” Yennefer had heard countless tales regarding Dara and Ciri’s escapades over the last few months and when she had popped round for a visit and he just happened to be there too, she witnessed him throw a minor, unintentional insult towards Lambert, so she could tell the kid was all right. “Just remember what I told you: ‘Take no shit.’”

“Take no shit,” Ciri repeated with a nod.

In lieu of another warning, Geralt just sighed. There was no telling them. At least they might be more lenient with swearing in secondary school, right?

“Right, as lovely as it was chatting to you- I mean you, Ciri, not you, Geralt-“

“Charming.”

“I’ve got places to be. Remember, Geralt, you’ve got a new performer coming tonight- actually they should be there by now. It’s their first performance of their newest album, so be nice.”

“I’m starting to regret agreeing to let you test out your talent here. The last one was…” he stopped himself, “And I’m always nice to them,” Geralt grumbled as he took the final turning to them down the road to the flat.

Both Ciri and Yennefer barked a laugh at the exact same time. “Well you weren’t exactly the nicest to this one-“

“Again, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Sorry, what was that?” Yennefer feigned deafness, “You’re breaking up! Bye Ciri!”

And a beep signalled the end of the call.

In the eight months that had passed since Geralt had brought Ciri over to Ireland to start their new lives together, a lot had changed. For Geralt at least. There were no more weekday, early morning closing shifts because otherwise he would get about two hours of sleep before he had to get up and get ready to take Ciri to school and you never drive tired either. It was just as bad as driving under the influence.

The man had to cook more meals for two than he had had to throughout his whole relationship with Yennefer and somehow, finding meals a child would like was even harder than cooking for the most stubborn woman in the world. Though luckily, unlike Yennefer, Ciri was a massive fan of Geralt’s stir fry, so he would pack as many vegetables in there as possible like a good, responsible father.

He had watched so many films with the young girl. If she was happy? They would watch a film. If she wanted to celebrate something? They would watch a film. If she was sad? They would watch a film. If she had just finished the book? The film version of it followed shortly after. Geralt was a busy man to say the least, so at first when she asked him to sit and watch films with her, he would spend the time multitasking, either answering emails, placing orders or making dinner as the film played out. But as the months passed and Geralt noticed Ciri was getting bigger by the second, he realised that perhaps he needed to start to slow down and spend some more time with her before it was too late. So the laptop would be closed and put away and dinner would already be prepared before they sat down to watch something. And he enjoyed it. He enjoyed cuddling up on the sofa with her under a mountain of blankets and pillows and snacks and enjoyed watching how happy the experience made her and how dramatically she reacted at every plot twist as if she had not been able to predict it about ten minutes in. She even introduced him to some kind of good films. And some not so good ones, of course, where annoyingly the songs in them stuck with him for weeks afterwards.

While Geralt was setting the bar up for the night, Ciri would sit in an already cleaned spot and call out questions from her homework for Geralt to help her with the answers. Which was all well and good for the first eight months, but now she was going to be moving on up to a secondary school in September, he was a little worried that his skill in the homework help department would be lacking. It even sometimes was now, and Ciri had to explain certain rules of the English language to him and in return, he would teach her a bit more Polish. With the rate she was going, she was going to be more fluent in both languages than Geralt.

In reality, the months had flown by in outings, heart to hearts, tears, laughter, scraped knees and copious amounts of cake (Ciri insisted on baking a cake for everyone’s birthday) and Geralt would not have had it any other way.

Well.

One other way.

“Hello?” Jaskier called out as he walked in to the bar, confused when he could not see anyone around. Yennefer had said that the doors would be open and that someone would be there to welcome him so that he could set up everything he needed for his gig. “I’m the- oh shit!” He jumped, nearly dropping his guitar as a super brawny looking man popped up from behind a counter. Jaskier was impressed he had even managed to hide behind it.

“You’re the what? Intruder? Bar’s not open yet, pal. Can’t just stroll on in here looking like that and expect a free drink.”

Jaskier placed a fist on his hip and raised his head a little matter of factly. “I’ll have you know I’ve strolled in to many a place looking like this and scored a free drink.”

The man huffed and looked Jaskier up and down before chuckling slightly. “I don’t doubt that, bud.”

Preening himself slightly at the attention, Jaskier strolled right up to the bar and sat down on one of the stools. First time. “Are you the owner?” he enquired as he propped his guitar up next to another stool.

The very, very muscular man crossed his arms, making them look even more bulky as if they were about to rip through his sleeves and leant his elbows on the counter right in front of Jaskier. Both men smirked at the exact same time, knowing exactly where this could be heading. “Indeed I am-“

“Indeed he’s not.”

Jaskier jumped again as another man, just as bulky and handsome as the first, walked in to the room with a crate full of glasses impressively propped up on his shoulder. If made to carry it himself, Jaskier would have for sure dropped it and smashed the contents after a couple of steps.

“You could have been a co-owner, but you’re far too irresponsible,” he placed the crate down on the far end of the bar before joining the two of them.

“Why’d you have to ruin the illusion?” The first man grumbled and Jaskier noticed that he kicked the other man lightly when he was close enough to reach.

“There’s…” Jaskier paused to pick his jaw up off of the floor, “There’s _two_ of you? Christ, let me shake the hand of whoever does the hiring around here, because _damn_ , good job to them.”

The great crate man roared with laughter and offered his hand out to Jaskier for him to shake it. “You’ll be able to in a bit, he just had to step out to pick his kid up from school, but he should be back any minute now. You must be the performer for tonight.”

“What gave it away?” Jaskier accepted the handshake and directed another smirk at the first man, “Was it my dashing good looks or impeccable charm?”

“Or perhaps the guitar?”

Jaskier gave a shrug as if maybe, possibly that could have been the right answer, but probably not. “Jaskier, at your service,” his eyes flicked between the two men as he dragged the corner of his bottom lip through his teeth, “ _Whatever_ the service may be…”

The first man’s chuckle was deep and wound it’s way right up Jaskier’s spine. “Yennefer warned us you might be trouble… Seems she was right.”

“I’m only trouble when it’s warranted, darling,” his voice low and promising, and his face devilishly sultry before he hopped off of the stool. There would be plenty of time for shamelessly flirting later, after he had finished getting ready to perform. “So, where can I set up to dazzle a crowd?”

“You could stay right there and dazzle me some more or there’s a stage over there,” The first man nodded in the direction of a raised platform on the other side of the room, “Give us a shout if you need anything. A hand setting up, shot for your nerves, my number-“ he was cut off as the crate man kicked him, but Jaskier pretended he had not seen it.

“A glass of water will do just fine, dear, us musicians need to keep our throats lubricated,” he smirked as he hoisted his guitar on to his shoulder.

“Oh, I can think of other ways to help that-“ Another kick.

“You wicked, wicked man,” Jaskier threw a wink over his shoulder.

Lambert nudged Eskel as the pair watched Jaskier walk off to prepare his space. “This is going to be fun…"

It had been eight months since Jaskier had returned home from Poland to his flat and the mess that his past self had left behind, which was significantly easier to deal with than the mess he had left behind in Poland. Eight months since he had placed his rucksack beside said mess and noticed the shattered pieces of one of the tacky fridge magnets he had bought as a souvenir on tour as was his tradition with visiting a new place. Eight months since he had opened his rucksack to find the fridge magnet he had bought when Geralt had stopped at the shopping centre. Eight months since he had reached in deeper to the bag to find the one he had bought for Geralt too. Eight months since he had placed them on the bookshelf in his bedroom so that he could torture himself for months to come for not only buying such a stupid gift, but for missing the chance to even gift it.

The past eight months had not been all doom and gloom and self deprecating torture though. Admittedly it had taken Jaskier a couple of hours of staring at the laptop on his table for him to buck up the courage to send Yennefer the sound file of one of his original songs. And within thirty minutes, it kicked off the start of his future.

Yennefer had liked it more than she cared to let on, and had set up a meeting with the head of Merigold Records the next day via video conference and within twenty four hours he was signed. By a real record label.

The months that followed were full of hard work and stress and frustration, but he met contacts within the industry, gained a bigger following on social media and recorded his first original album.

He had kept in touch with his Berlin group (minus Tim), grown closer with them even, and although they could not make the first gig of his new tour due to various commitments, they had booked plane and venue tickets for a couple of shows down the line and he was incredibly excited to see them again.

Jaskier being Jaskier, of course, had not shied away from the dating scene for too long. Within a month he was back to flirting with nearly every breathing human being he came across, tossed his number a few ways and even arranged a few dates just to feel like he was getting back to normal. He was trying to chase some sort of thrill, but it never went past the first date. Nothing came close to the spark that he had lost.

And now here he was, about to perform the album that would not exist without Geralt’s help and he wanted nothing more than to look up mid song and see those eyes looking back at him from the audience.

“Upstairs,” Geralt ordered as he opened Ciri’s car door for her.

“Can I not go and-“ She started to ask the same request she asked pretty much every afternoon, if she could hang out at the bar while they set up, as was the only downside of living right next door to the place where he and his brothers worked. Usually Geralt would give in and tell her to bring her homework in with her, but he knew he needed to start being a little bit more strict with her to help with the transition to secondary school. That and no homework ever got done with Lambert around. None with any right answers anyway.

“No. I know for a fact that you’ve got homework that you did not tell me about yesterday because one of the mum’s messaged me if I’d seen it and if I could help.”

“Flipping Susan,” Ciri huffed and pushed the car door shut with her hip. “What kid of school gives you homework during your last week?”

“Actually it was Claire this time.”

“You know they only added you in to their group chat because they’ll all obsessed with you right?” She stuck out her tongue and made a noise of disgust at the thought of the mums, the majority of whom were still married, lusting over Geralt.

“Mm,” he made a similar face of disgust. He had accepted the invite so that they could help remind him of various deadlines and events for Ciri’s school year that she was too conveniently forgetful to remember. “And I only humoured them so that I know when you’re lying to me about not having homework so you can go skive off with Lambert.”

“That was _one_ time and he offered to take me to go and see a film _you_ said you didn’t want to see! I was doing you a favour!”

Geralt huffed a laugh and ushered her towards the door that led up to the flat. “How considerate of you,” he elbowed her gently as he unlocked the door for her, “Go on. If you finish it before I come up, I’ll make homemade pizza.” He bartered as if he had not made the dough a few hours before he had gone to pick her up from school.

“I suppose pizza could be applied to certain aspects of maths…” A fair reward to sweeten the deal, she decided as she disappeared up the stairs, giving Geralt a wave as the door closed behind her.

Before Ciri, Geralt had never really known what pride felt like, but now he felt like he was bursting with it. He celebrated every single one of her achievements and the fridge was positively covered with them. He was so unbelievably proud of the girl after everything she had gone through and how much she had grown over the last half of the year. And he knew that the feeling was only going to increase more as the years passed.

The man let out a deep sigh, pocketing his keys as he walked the short walk to work.

And it hit him as soon as he opened the door.

_“I'm weak my love, and I am wanting…”_

“Speak of the devil and Geralt shall appear,” Lambert threw a cloth at his brother as he walked in to the bar.

But Geralt could not hear him. All he could hear was the voice that he would be able to recognise anywhere. At a coffee shop, a shopping centre, a festival, a hotel, a bar. Anywhere.

The cloth hit Geralt’s chest and he caught it as it fell and threw it back without looking in Lambert’s direction, somehow still managing to get him square in the face.

He did not hear the protests.

He just kept walking towards the voice.

_“If this is the path I must trudge_

_I welcome my sentence_

_Give to you my penance_

_Garrotter, jury and-”_

Jaskier stopped singing as he opened his eyes, a small gasp escaping him instead as if he could not quite believe what he was seeing.

_No… It can’t be._

“Geralt…” he breathed.

Geralt took a couple of steps closer towards the platform until he was about six foot away from it.

“Geralt, honestly, I swear,” Jaskier struggled to prop up his guitar in the stand and settled for lying it on the floor which Geralt was surprised at, “If I’d have known you worked here I would have never agreed to this. Yennefer just said this was the place she sent her new signs with Triss so I agreed to it. She didn’t tell me anything else. I wouldn’t do this to you, you have to believe me.”

Unblinkingly, Geralt stared up at Jaskier, standing there on the spotlighted stage, a cool, violet glow highlighting his every feature. He was wearing the white, billowy shirt from the pub, the tie strings loose to allow for a plummeting v-neckline that exposed quite a bit of chest hair and hints of some of his tattoos. He wore the brown braces attached to tight, high waisted trousers that led down scuffed brown boots. The light shone off of the many rings that still decorated his fingers and dark make up lined his eyes to make them look bluer than ever.

His hair was curly.

Jaskier hurried down the stairs at the side of the platform so that he could be on the same level as Geralt, in no way in his mind did he deserve to be seen on a pedestal after what had happened. His heels were practically grazing the stage, trying to allow Geralt as much distance as possible. “Geralt please… say something, anything.”

There was a beat of silence as Geralt finally dragged his eyes away from Jaskier for the first time since he had entered the bar.

He swallowed.

“So you sent the email then.”

That was not exactly what Jaskier had expected Geralt to say, nor could he decide if it was better or worse than a ‘Fuck you, get out of here’. “I didn’t want to, Geralt. After what happened I went home and typed up this whole ‘thank you but no thank you’ thing because I knew I did not deserve the opportunity after that and she asked me why and I wasn’t going to tell her but she insisted on a better reason other than that I’d reconsidered the offer so I told her what happened and she told me to stop being a fuckwit and I tried to say no again but let’s be honest the woman scares the shit out of me and I was worried she was going to say something to you so I eventually sent her a song and before I knew it she had started arranging things and I didn’t know what to do. Fuck. I know I shouldn’t have done it.”

Jaskier continued to vomit more words of something that sounded like an explanation that came entirely from a single breath, but Geralt was not really paying attention, because when he had looked back to Jaskier he noticed something.

“Geralt, I…” he rubbed a hand over his face and was too upset to notice Geralt take a step closer to him to get a better look, “I am so sorry for what I said to you. I shouldn’t have made you take me to Poland and I should have told you about my Grandmother and I shouldn’t have wasted your time and I should never have insinuated that you would make a bad father even though that was one hundred percent not what I meant by it. After what you told me about your childhood I should have taken what you confided in me seriously, but I was just so shocked and I don’t know I guess laughing is how I react in that kind of situation, I’ve never really been in a situation like that so I didn’t know. You’re going to be a great dad I know it. You’re smart and kind and helpful and encouraging and resilient and patient and if that kid is ever in trouble or danger not only would you be there to protect them, I know you would teach them how to defend theirselves too. Christ, if you could deal with my childish arse for a week you could raise a child from hell in to an angel and I'm-“

“You’re wearing a necklace.”

“I-“ Jaskier blinked and looked down at his chest quickly. “Yeah I uh, it’s nothing really,” he reached to pull at the strings of his shirt to bring the neckline up to cover the chord of the necklace, “It’s-“ but his breath hitched as he froze when Geralt beat him to it, taking another step closer and lifted the homemade pendant out from under the safety of the shirt.

Threaded with a dark leather chord were two plectrums.

Well, one and a half, if you want to be pedantic.

One was blue with a dandelion seed on it and one was incredibly familiar.

Geralt let go of the necklace after a moment and Jaskier watched, unable to say a word as Geralt took his phone out of his pocket briefly in order to pull something out of the back of it. His hand free of his phone again, Geralt lifted the necklace out from the shirt again and held it up to Jaskier’s line of sight with it’s missing half.

Like two pre-teen girls best friend charms.

Geralt’s eyes flicked down to Jaskier’s lips and then back up to search the man’s endless blue eyes that were threatening to let tears fall and Jaskier just about managed a small nod as he stared back in to dark amber. There was a gentle tug on the necklace to close the remaining distance between them.

As the men’s lips finally met, it felt like ten thousand coasters were hitting Geralt’s heart and all of the fireworks that had ever graced the sky were going off in Jaskier’s. A hand with two, now complete, guitar picks cupped Jaskier’s face and another found it’s way to his waist to keep them close, while two hands clenched into fists around Geralt’s shirt, clinging to the moment. A moment they had waited eight months and a week for. And it was damn near everything they imagined. Jaskier could smell the campfire again and stupidly expensive wine and Geralt’s hoodie and Geralt could smell wildflowers and honey and coconut and fucking cake pops.

Jaskier was the first to pull away, regretfully so, and he rested his forehead on Geralt’s chest, letting his own rise and fall as he tried to steady his heart, even though he could feel Geralt’s racing a mile a minute too, almost in synch.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out.

Having none of it, Geralt hooked a finger under Jaskier’s chin and lifted it up so that teary eyes could meet his own. “No, _I’m_ sorry,” he wiped away an escaped tear on Jaskier’s cheek with his thumb. “I shouldn’t have got mad over nothing. I should have told you what was happening from the start and I shouldn’t have left you there.” And when Jaskier sniffed, Geralt knew he had to clear the remaining tears somehow. “A cemetery of all the places. There could have been ghosts or monsters or… a robot vampire-”

“You bastard,” Jaskier giggled, still a little tearful, and lightly thumped Geralt’s chest with his still clenched fist before pulling him in for another kiss, this one all smiles and significantly less tears. Again, he was the first to pull away, this time with a slight laugh and it was his turn to search Geralt’s eyes for answers. “You’re never going to get over that line, are you?” And he liked what he saw.

He let go of Geralt’s shirt as the man took a small step back and handed the other half of the pick over. “Gods, that is embarrassing,” Jaskier chuckled awkwardly as he squeezed the pick in his hand, “It was in the back pocket of my jeans and I-”

Geralt gave his a raised brow look as if to say he was surprised it managed to stay in there with how clumsy Jaskier was. And Jaskier read this easily.

“I know, I know,” he chuckled again before the realisation hit him, “Hey, you kept yours too, you should be embarrassed as well!”

“Me? Embarrassed? Never.”

“You liar, I saw how you looked at me in those lederh-“

He was cut off again as Geralt tugged on his braces to draw him in for another kiss, no tears in sight.

“Oh, _that_ Jaskier,” Eskel snorted as he walked past the still kissing pair, another crate on his shoulder.

“Mmm,” Jaskier hummed as Geralt pulled away from the embrace, so incredibly contented for the first time in months. “The very same,” but the dazed smile quickly turned in to a frown of confusion and he peered round Geralt’s shoulder, “Wait, what does he mean ‘that Jaskier’?”

“He means nothing,” Geralt shot a warning glare over to his brother.

But unfortunately he had another, more annoying brother.

Lambert scoffed as he walked behind the bar, bracing himself for whatever impact was about to come his way. “He means hopefully the bastard will stop pining for his lost fling-”

“He was not a fling!”

“I was not a fling!”

Both of the men exclaimed at the exact same time, but Jaskier was the one to throw his arm up to point at Lambert in a threatening manner, which caught Geralt’s eye. He turned back from glaring at his siblings to take Jaskier’s wrist in one hand. It sent a jolt through Jaskier that was enough to paralyse him.

His arm, once fairly bare apart from the embarrassing mark of his past in the form of a terrible dandelion tattoo that had not aged well, was now covered in delicate looking flowers of all shapes and sizes and kinds, winding their way up and up.

“The dandelion…”

“Oh, long gone,” Jaskier huffed awkwardly before letting his eyes flick up to glance at Geralt to judge his reaction. “I uh… took some advice.”

“Hm,” Geralt grunted and guided Jaskier’s wrist to turn it as he slowly pushed up the messily rolled sleeve to take in not only more of the tattoo, but the goosebumps that pricked at the skin. “Well there’s a first time for everything.”

Jaskier did not even have it in him for a round of ‘Who Can Out-Tease Who’ because all he could focus on was how he wanted nothing more than to slip his hand up in Geralt’s grasp and intertwine their fingers. But part of him still thought doing so might shatter this fleeting perfect moment and Geralt would retreat back in to his iceberg again.

The slight frown that took over Geralt’s face would have made Jaskier very nervous, but the man did not give him time to be.

“You have too many rings to hold hands.”

And while Geralt started to regret at how immature that had sounded, Jaskier’s spark of confidence was reignited.

“Well…” his mouth curved in to a small smirk, “You’re just going to have to get used to them. No rush-“

Turns out kissing Jaskier was an excellent way to shut him up. If only Geralt had thought of it sooner, they could have been doing this for a long, long time. Geralt tugged on Jaskier’s braces to turn him around on the spot and walked backwards to the stage. As he sat down on it, he spread his legs just enough for Jaskier to stand in-between them.

“Slight lie,” Jaskier’s breathing was a little ragged and he gave Geralt a quick peck, “Big rush, chum.”

“Not your chum,” Geralt smirked as he pushed back one of Jaskier’s curls.

“Sorry, sorry, esteemed acquaintance, wasn’t it- ah!” Jaskier yelped as Geralt hooked a leg around his own and tapped at the back of his knee with his heel, making Jaskier fall on to Geralt’s chest.

“What is it with you throwing things at me, hmm? Coasters, business cards, popcorn, yourself.”

“Well I just keep thinking back to that wonderful customer service of yours and kicking myself for not tipping you adequately, so,” another smirk that said ‘two can play at this game’ and Jaskier brought his crotch just a fraction too close to Geralt’s.

The man’s breath hitched and though it would be a rather fun place to hook up, now was definitely not the time.

“The song you were singing…” he tried to change the subject.

And of course, because it would lead to talking about Jaskier, the attempt was successful.

“I sent Yennefer the one that I sang in the pub at the end of the night and she asked what it was about so I told her the witcher and bard album concept and she was taken by the idea. I think it was more the fact that no-one’s done that sort of thing before rather than she thought it was really good, but I’ll take it.”

“Brought you here, didn’t it?”

Jaskier felt his heart skip a beat and his cheeks flushed with warmth. “Hey,” he cleared his throat to try and hide his embarrassment, trying Geralt’s idea of changing the subject, “When you said you’re a bartender…” he stayed snugly in his new found spot but gestured around the room.

“I tend to the bar in my own establishment, yes.” Geralt would like to make it clear that he did not lie, he just omitted some details.

“You own a gym, a bar, a flat in London…” he counted each one on his fingers to make a point, “Is there anything else I should know about, money bags?”

“The flat next-door.”

“The flat next door, of course, of course… This flat of yours…”

Geralt hummed, taking the bait that he knew better than to bite.

“Does it have a double bed?”

“A king bed,” he watched Jaskier’s eyes light up somehow even more, “There’s also a fun addition.”

“Mm,” Jaskier hummed, carding his fingers through Geralt’s hair, and kept his voice low and sultry, “Pray, my dear, do enlighten me.”

“A child.”

“Oh.”

Bubble well and truly burst.

Jaskier had been so caught up in the dreamy little haze that was the reunion he never would have imagined could be going this well, that he had quite forgotten what had started all of this was not exactly just going to disappear. He tried to take a step back, suddenly feeling guilty for standing too close to Geralt when the man stopped him with another tug on the necklace.

“You can stay the night, it’s not like we’ve never shared a bed before. Just none of _that_ ,” he watched as Jaskier nodded in agreement, a silent promise, before adding with a smirk: “Yet.”

Jaskier’s grin returned in full force.

“So…” he dragged out the sound as he slipped the broken pick in to Geralt’s back pocket before snaking his hands under the back of the man’s shirt with a devilish grin and revelled in the goosebumps that he created, “I noticed you didn’t sign me out of your Netflix account…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song used: Her Sweet Kiss - Sonya Belousova & Giona Ostinelli
> 
> Well, dear readers, this is it - the final chapter is here! I almost feel sad to publish it because it means it’s all over. I cannot believe how quickly these past few months have flown by. I honestly could not have begun to imagine how much love and support I would receive when I first started writing this fic, but with all your kudos and shares and kind words it has truly been one of the most heart warming experiences. I honestly cannot thank you enough and wish you all the best in the world because you deserve incredible things for being such nice readers. Please know every comment is truly cherished and I’m so glad no-one sees me when I read them because I’m a big ol’ sop and have teared up multiple times.
> 
> This fic came about when somebody told me my writing prompt was terrible and it sat in my open drafts for months untouched until I got over my bruised ego and thought: What if…?
> 
> And I’m so glad I did.
> 
> Writing this fic, though at times it was difficult struggling with my poor fatigue levels, has ultimately been so rewarding and has reignited my love of writing. I have proven to myself that I can start a project and see it through all the way to the end and still love it as much as I did when I started it. I can be proud of myself.
> 
> However with the final chapter going up I am now very excited to announce that this maybe kinda sort of isn’t the end of the road trip au…
> 
> Yes, that’s right-
> 
> This dumbass is writing a sequel!
> 
> Now by no means will it be anything like this one (I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up) and will probably be significantly worse, so I can’t promise you’ll enjoy it. You guys have been absolutely critical in helping me fall in love with writing again and have made me feel so good about what I write and my characterisations that I couldn’t let go of my boys just yet.
> 
> The sequel will follow the boys as they navigate the next year in their lives together.
> 
> Yes, I have already started to write it, but no, I have no clue when the first chapter is going to be published. I intend to take a bit of a break between now and when I sit down to write this properly because my life for the last month has been nothing but this fic, I haven’t read anything, painting anything, played anything or done pretty much anything bar eat, sleep, work and write, so I want to enjoy some proper down time without the looming fear of chapter deadlines like I’ve had for the past few months. Feel free to follow my tumblr zeebeebrown and I'll give updates on there as to timings and the like and maybe sneak peeks?
> 
> I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing this.
> 
> Thank you for the ride.


End file.
